


The Gods Must Be Crazy

by Spottedfyre



Series: The Divines have an interesting taste in champions... [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Adventure, Gen, M/M, Male Slash, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 111,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spottedfyre/pseuds/Spottedfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Dunmer wrongly accused of nine counts of murder and necrophilia finds himself on a quest to save Cyrodiil, and learns that sometimes, the only difference between a hero and a criminal is the prison cell the guards throw him in. When an honest mistake brings a captivating master assassin into his life, he wonders if he can't be a little of both. Currently undergoing rewrite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shriller Than All the Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, and welcome to the new and improved version of "The Gods Must Be Crazy"! Long story short, I ended up looking through this and realizing it could be a lot better than its original version, and I wanted to make that happen. Also, this is my way of beating myself into writing in first person POV, because I need to get into that habit for my original stuff. For those of you who read the first version of this, welcome back! The major plot points here will be staying the same, but a lot of parts are going to be heavily revised and, in some cases, expanded, because I ended up skipping over a few things I'd initially wanted to include in this fic's first draft, so if you're interested, I hope reading this again shouldn't be too boring.
> 
> Disclaimer: All I own here is Remy.

After a few weeks in a cell with no one for company but another Dunmer across the hall, who'd lost interest in me after realizing I wasn't a woman, my stay in the Imperial City Prison started to get to me. It wasn't that I'd never been arrested before – what I did for a living at the time wasn't exactly legal – but it was the first time I'd been arrested for anything serious. It was also the first time I was in prison for something I hadn't actually done. Or at least, I hadn't done what I'd been officially charged with. I'd done plenty of things I wasn't proud of, but as far as I knew, murder and necrophilia were definitely not on that list. And I like to think that if I'd murdered nine people and had my way with each of their corpses in a single night, I'd have remembered it. Still, the thought of spending the rest of my life in prison for it without so much as a trial almost made me wish I had. Almost.

I sighed, and flopped down on the slightly damp, straw-covered stone shelf that was my bed. A trial wouldn't have made a difference, really. Whether I got a chance to explain myself or not, even I wasn't sure exactly what happened. One moment I was wandering the Waterfront, looking for work, and the next thing I knew I was naked in a bed full of corpses with a splitting headache and a guard yelling at me. My best guess was that whoever killed everyone else had wanted me dead, too, but didn't finish the job for some reason. Not that I thought anyone would believe me. I just wanted a chance to say it before someone important remembered where I was and got around to having me executed. If that's actually what they had planned for me. All I had to go on was one conversation with my fellow prisoner, and he probably wasn't a reliable source of news.

That thought wasn't much of a comfort, and I ended up lying awake longer than I probably should have thinking of all the possible messy ends that might have been planned for me. I must have fallen asleep at some point, though, because I woke up to someone making noise in the hallway outside my cell. I tried to ignore it at first, but it kept getting closer, which made it hard to keep hoping they weren't there for me. Soon I could make out bits and pieces of what they were saying, something about someone being killed and a cell that shouldn't have had a prisoner in it. I realized that that last bit probably applied to me when a fluffy-robed man surrounded by guards unlocked my door and entered my cell.

I didn't have the first idea what someone like that would want from me, but if this was going to be my execution, I hoped they'd at least make it quick and clean. I stood as the man in the fancy robes approached me, and tried to finger-comb my hair into something more presentable than the rat's nest it had knotted itself into in my weeks without a mirror. I figured the least I could do for myself was make sure I didn't look like a mess when they dragged my body away.

But instead of ordering his guards to kill me, or doing it himself, he just said, "I've seen you... Let me see your face," and put his hand on my cheek. After staring into my eyes like he was looking for something important for what felt like an eternity, he nodded to himself. "Yes... You are the one from my dreams..."

"Who are you? And what's going on here?" I asked, backing myself into a corner. I didn't particularly like the way he was looking at me, and I liked the fact that I'd apparently been in his dreams even less. No one whose dreams involved a Dunmer of my description could be entirely sane, and being trapped in a cell with a madman and his armed guards was never a good thing.

"I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. My sons have been assassinated, and I am next. I am being escorted out of the city via a secret escape route that leads through your cell," he explained, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It took a while to get my tongue working again, but I managed it somehow. "I'm Remy... And I am, or at least I was, working as a prostitute in this lovely city of yours until I got locked in here." In retrospect, it was not the best way to introduce myself, and I'd gone and said it to the emperor, of all people. Still, at least it was better than saying what I was actually imprisoned for. That really would have been awkward. And at least spending the rest of my life in prison meant no one had to know how far I'd stuffed my foot into my mouth. Maybe my luck was finally taking a turn for the better.

"Perhaps the gods have placed you here so that we may meet. As for what you have done... it does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for."

"If you say so..." I replied, wishing I had half as much faith in myself as the emperor did. "What do I do now?"

"You will find your own path. Take care... there will be blood and death before he end."

Before I could ask what any of that meant, the emperor's guards opened a passageway hidden behind one of my cell's walls and guided him down the dark hallway it led to. I just stared at the new hole in my wall for a while after that, trying to decide whether I wanted to follow him or not. If I was even supposed to follow him. I didn't think that whatever was on the other side of that hole could be any worse than staying in my cell, though, so I headed down the passage before someone decided to check on me and move me to a cell without a hole in it.

I caught up with the emperor and his guards at around the same time as a group of assassins did. I was fairly handy with a dagger, but it didn't look like I'd be a match for any of them, and I didn't have anything to use as a weapon if I did join the fight, so I stayed out of the room until it was over. One of the emperor's guards ended up dying, and the rest of the group left me with her corpse after locking the only way out behind them. I assumed that was the end of my escape attempt until a pair of rats decided to smash a hole in a wall just as I'd made up my mind to go back to my cell. I managed to fight them off with the dead guard's shortsword without getting bitten too many times, then decided to at least take a look at the hole they'd come out of before resigning myself to spending the rest of my life in prison.

Somehow, after fighting my way through a small army of rats and goblins, I ended up in the same chamber as the emperor and his guards again. They'd just finished fighting off another group of assassins, and the moment one caught sight of me he had me shoved up against a wall with a sword at my neck before I could so much as say 'hello'. Clearly, he didn't care nearly as much for me as his master did.

"How did he manage to find us again?" the other guard asked, looking like he was just as surprised at my luck as I was. "Kill him, he might be working with the assassins."

"W-wait a moment, there!" I stammered, "Can't we talk this over? I mean look at me, I couldn't possibly be with them! I don't have the shiny weapons and armor, I'm half-starved, and I practically glow in the dark. What use would they have for me?"

The guard holding me just snorted, but before he could carry out his friend's order the emperor took a step forward.

"You are not to kill him," he said. "He can help us. He must help us."

"As you wish, sire," the guard replied, glaring at me as he lowered his blade.

As soon as he let go of me, I was at the emperor's side. I didn't want to be any closer to his guards than I had to. Granted, I had no idea what sort of 'help' I could offer, or how safe providing that help would be, but I didn't have any better plans.

"They cannot understand why I trust you. They've not seen what I've seen. How can I explain? Listen. You know the Nine? How they guide our fates with an invisible hand?" the emperor asked.

"I'm not on good terms with the gods..." I replied. Or at least, I didn't think I was. If the Nine liked me, I doubted I would have ended up in that prison cell in the first place. Though I didn't see what my thoughts on religion had to do with anything. I wondered if the emperor was always so strange, or if his mind had just cracked due to all the assassination attempts. I'd have believed either one, really.

"I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

"Aren't you afraid to die?" I asked. The emperor seemed strangely calm about everything he'd gone through that night, and to be honest, it was a bit unsettling. Not fearing death was one thing, but accepting it so easily was something else entirely. I almost wished he'd cry, or scream, or do something to show he didn't want to accept his destiny without a fight. It would've made him seem more... human.

"I have lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy. In your face, I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied." The emperor smiled, patted my shoulder, and followed his guards down another dark tunnel. Much as I wanted him to give me a real explanation of what was going on, and what part I was supposed to play in it, I realized that I wasn't likely to get anything else out of him.

"Where are we going?" I asked, following as closely behind the emperor as I could without stepping on his robes. I wasn't about to get left behind again if I could avoid it.

"I go to my grave. A tongue shriller than all the music calls me. You shall follow me yet for a while, then we must part."

I just sighed and followed the emperor and his guards through their escape route. We fought off so many assassins I lost count along the way, until we found an excessively large group of them blocking the exit. I got shoved into a side room with the emperor, with orders to guard him with my life, while the guards tried to fight through them. How I was supposed to guard him against people far better trained and equipped than I was was beyond me, but I didn't have much choice in the matter. At least the room we were in looked relatively assassin-proof.

"I can go no further," the emperor said, startling me out of my thoughts. "You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings! Take the Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

"Your amulet? This is... the part where you die, then?"

He smiled and nodded. "This is where my journey ends. For you though, the road is long and dangerous. Now, give me your hand."

I did as he asked, and as soon as soon as he'd pressed his amulet into my hand, one of the room's walls slid out of place and an assassin stabbed a knife into his back. I gave him a matching wound in his throat while he was distracted by the emperor's death, just to make things fair. If the feeling of his blood bubbling out over my hand and the little gurgling sound he made as he fell to the floor felt more satisfying than they should have, I didn't think anything of it at the time.

When the fighting died down in the other room, only one guard was left. However he felt about me not saving the emperor, he told me where I could find the Jauffre person I was supposed to deliver the Amulet of Kings to, then gave me his torch to light my way out while he stayed behind to guard the emperor's corpse.

Once I'd seen what the rest of my way out looked like, I wished he'd kept the torch. It didn't do much to light my way, but it did give me a wonderful view of the exact contents of the Imperial City's sewer system. I was almost happy when it went out after I slipped and fell into a pile of goop I was probably better off not identifying. There are some things mortals were never meant to know, and making the rest of that journey in darkness saved me from learning them.

The sewer tunnels eventually brought me to the shore of Lake Rumare, and I didn't waste any time before getting into the water and washing the sewer filth off myself. After a bit of scrubbing, I got myself to look as normal as I ever did, grinning to myself as my hair returned to its usual shade of pink from the greenish-black mess it turned into after my fall in the sewers. From there, it wasn't hard to find my way to my cozy little shack on the Waterfront. I didn't stay long; just long enough to find myself a clean set of clothing, a belt to strap my shortsword to, and a scrap of cloth to tie my hair back with. Strange as he was, the emperor was the reason I was free and alive, and I wasn't about to dishonor his memory by refusing to grant his dying wish. After all, he'd just wanted me to walk to Chorrol and deliver an amulet. How hard could that possibly be?


	2. Trouble Understanding the Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main fix in this chapter was Martin's characterization, so I'm hoping he sounds more like himself here than he did in the first version of this chapter. Any thoughts on how the new POV is working out would also be much appreciated. As would any thoughts on anything else in this fanfic, for that matter.

As I stumbled through the small encampment outside what was left of Kvatch, wearing battered, oversized armor and missing most of my blood, I realized that I really needed to learn how to say 'no'. Everything had started off beautifully; I'd actually enjoyed my walk to Weynon Priory, and once I got there Jauffre was reasonable enough to accept that my story about how I got the Amulet of Kings was too ridiculous to be a lie. As soon as I'd given him the amulet, though, everything fell downhill faster than a slippy drunk.

Instead of thanking me and sending me on my way, Jauffre decided that my delivering the amulet made me the best possible person to send after the emperor's bastard son, Martin. I didn't much like the thought of getting more involved in whatever was going on than I already was, but I'd agreed to do it, anyway. It felt too much like the right thing to do for me to walk away from it with a clear conscience, and when another priest offered to lend me his horse on my way out, I'd assumed I could have it done before the day's end. Arriving at Kvatch to find the city in flames and a giant, fiery portal to Oblivion blocking its gates changed that.

In the heat of the moment, I'd thrown myself through the portal and into Oblivion itself. My time there was a blur of sharp claws, snapping teeth, blinding flames, and freezing, ash-filled air, but I managed to keep myself alive long enough to remove the sigil stone that kept it in place somehow. The high from shutting an Oblivion gate kept my mind fuzzy enough for me to charge into Kvatch and reclaim the city along with what was left of the city guard, until it wore off when instead of the scamp I'd been fighting, I stuck my blade into a guard. I hadn't meant to; he just ran right in front of me after I'd already started stabbing. Judging by how fast he went all limp and glassy-eyed, he was dead before he hit the ground.

If any of the other guards noticed what I'd done, they didn't have any reaction I could see. Which just made the whole thing feel worse, really, but there was too much left to do for me to sit down and feel guilty. All the other guards except for their leader, Savlian Matius, died reclaiming the rest of the city and castle from the daedra, and all I got out of my attempt to rescue the count was a long-dead corpse. In retrospect, I'd been far too blunt when describing his condition to Savlian, but at that point we were both too tired for it to turn into a fight. He just yelled for a bit, then gave me his old cuirass in exchange for the count's ring and shoved me out the door to look for Martin.

After asking around the encampment for a bit, I found him, alive and well, leaning against a tent. I'd never been so happy to see a priest. He looked a lot like his father, really. Younger, of course, and his hair was brown instead of white, but he had those same light blue eyes that looked like they could see into your soul.

"Martin!" I cried, and didn't so much hug him as collapse onto him from exhaustion. It didn't have quite the same effect, but at least I'd tried. "By the Nine, am I glad to see you."

"Have we met before?" he asked, probably trying to figure out why a bloody, bedraggled Dunmer was clinging to him and making a mess of his robes. Still, he'd been nice enough to hold me up instead of shoving me off him. It wasn't a bad start.

"Um... no, but I came here to find you. It's good to see you're not a corpse." I peeled myself off him, and managed to stand without swaying too much.

"So you're the one everyone's been talking about. I heard about how you helped the Guard drive the daedra back. Well done. Though if it's a priest you need, I don't think I'll be much help to you. I'm having trouble understanding the gods right now..."

"I don't need a priest, I need you. You have to come with me to Weynon Priory, now. You aren't safe here."

"Of course I'm not safe here; no one is!" Martin snapped. "What could you possibly need me for that's more important than caring for Kvatch's people? Explain yourself."

"Right. You wouldn't know, would you?" I sighed; just once, it would've been nice to have a story that actually made sense. "This is going to sound crazy, but you have to believe me. You're the emperor's son, and at the moment you're the only person who can stop this Oblivion madness before Mehrunes Dagon takes over all of Tamriel."

"That is crazy. I'm just a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer. I'm sorry, but you have the wrong man." Martin shook his head and started to back away from me, like he thought I wasn't quite right in the head. Granted, after agreeing to go along with this amulet business and jumping through an Oblivion gate, I'd have been the first to admit that there probably was something wrong with my head, but that wasn't the point. If he could accept his city being destroyed by an army of daedra, I didn't see why Martin couldn't accept being the emperor's long-lost son.

I grabbed his sleeve before he could get too far away. I hadn't come so far and gotten myself ripped to shreds to be labeled as crazy and dismissed; the fate of the world depended on my actions, and I was not about to let the world down. "You don't understand, the emperor told me about you before he died. You didn't know you were his son because no one wanted you to. Please, just come with me!"

Martin's face softened a little. "The emperor spoke to you before he died? And he told you to find me?"

"Yes! Why would I lie about something like that; I have nothing to gain from it."

"This is insane, but... I think you may be telling the truth."

"So you'll come with me?"

"Yes. Lead on."

I led him to where I'd left my horse before he had a chance to change his mind. "You should take the horse; if you don't go too fast, I can keep up. Making the future emperor walk so far is probably against all sorts of laws."

"I appreciate the offer, but I think I can survive making the journey on foot. You look like you can barely stand... I wouldn't want you injuring yourself on my account."

"Thank you..." After a few failed attempts, I managed to hoist myself onto the horse. "We don't have to travel too far; Weynon Priory is just outside Chorrol."

A few minutes down the road, Martin said, "You seem to know a great deal about me, but I don't recall you giving me so much as your name. It would be a shame not to learn it after all you've done for Kvatch."

"I'm Remy. Though honestly, my name probably doesn't matter. I don't plan to make a habit of this hero-ing business. I'm perfectly content to live out the rest of my days as a nameless Waterfront resident after this is done."

"I can't say I blame you. Entering Oblivion must have been a harrowing experience." Martin paused for a moment, then asked, "If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you become involved in this?"

"It's a bit of a long story..."

"We have time."

"Are you sure you want to know? It's not very... priestly."

Martin smiled at that. "Most stories aren't. I'm sure I can handle it."

"All right, then. The important part is that I ran into the emperor – your father, or so everyone seems to believe – when he tried to get out of the Imperial City through an escape route that happened to lead through my prison cell."

"You were in prison?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"I had a small bounty for a couple counts of prostitution."

"Strange... Don't you usually need a higher bounty than that for the guards to take an interest in you?"

"How would you know about that?"

"I wasn't always a priest. In my youth, I was a very different man. Let's leave it at that."

"So, you're not going to give me a lecture about what I do for a living?"

"No. So long as it was your choice and done willingly, I have no objections to it."

"I... thank you. You're not half bad for a priest, you know that?"

"I suppose I'll have to take that as a compliment." Martin smiled again, and if I didn't know better I'd have sworn he was trying not to laugh. "Would you like to tell me what you were actually arrested for, now?"

"Nine counts of murder... and necrophilia. Not that I was guilty of it, but when the guards find you in a bed of corpses and you have no idea what happened, they don't tend to care much for what you have to say."

"...Oh. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Thanks. It's nice to have someone believe in me, for a change."

"Don't you have any family?"

"I used to. An adoptive one, anyway; a Nord couple took me in when I was just a baby. Damn good parents, but they were already old when they found me. They've both been dead for a while now."

"What about friends? Surely you weren't completely alone in the world."

"Not since I moved here from Skyrim a few years back. It's not so bad, though. I don't mind being alone, and the Waterfront's always crowded enough for me to find company when I need it."

"I'm glad you've found happiness for yourself, then."

I shrugged. As far as I was concerned, I'd had a good enough life, and until my false arrest I hadn't seen any reason I should be unhappy with it. Making the best of what I had just seemed to make more sense than sulking over what I didn't have.

"So, Skyrim... That explains the accent. I was having a hard time placing it."

"Most people do. I guess it sounds strange coming from a Dunmer," I said, happy he'd changed the subject. At least I was used to talking about my voice. "Though you're pretty unusual, yourself."

"I never said I wasn't."

With someone to talk to, Chorrol came into view after what felt like no time at all. I was looking forward to handing Martin over to Jauffre and going back to my old life, and it seemed like that could actually happen until we met a shepherd on the road who told us that Weynon Priory was under attack. I should have known things wouldn't be that easy.

When we reached the priory, everyone but Jauffre was dead, and before we'd managed to fight off the assassins that had attacked it, one had run off with the Amulet of Kings. According to Jauffre, the only safe place to keep Martin until we'd found a way to get the amulet back was Cloud Ruler Temple, so instead of sleeping and making my way home, I got a few moments of rest and a healing potion before riding to Bruma. We didn't run into any trouble on the roads, but things got a bit complicated when we reached the city gates.

The emperor might have been nice enough to release me from prison, but his death had stopped news of that from reaching the guards in charge of enforcing his laws. As soon as they caught sight of me, I was in prison for murder and necrophilia again, with the additional charge of escaping prison tacked onto my sentence. After several hours of arguing, Martin and Jauffre managed to convince them I'd been pardoned and get me free again, but by that point it had grown too dark to make it up the path to Cloud Ruler Temple. Once I'd gotten settled into my room at the Jerall View Inn, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

\----------

My latest recruit had proven to be a considerable challenge to locate. Under different circumstances, I might have praised his skill in evading a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, but I did not appreciate expending so much time and energy on a fool that was likely to get himself killed on his first contract. The Dunmer's murder of a Kvatch guard had been a sloppy affair; his ensuing escape from justice, a mere stroke of luck. The Night Mother desired his presence in our family in spite of this, however, and the task of his acquisition had fallen to me. Having no desire to question her will, I began my search in Kvatch, where I had been directed to Chorrol, where I had, in turn, been directed to Bruma.

There, one of the city's beggars wisely directed me to my quarry's location, the Jerall View Inn, without demanding anything in exchange. The innkeeper divulged the location of his room without question, and when I'd located his door, it became clear that he hadn't bothered to so much as lock himself in. Apparently personal security was not high on his list of priorities. I entered the room, remaining unseen and unheard as I shut the door behind me, and immediately wondered if this was all some kind of sick joke.

It was common enough for recruits to have a decidedly nonthreatening appearance, but I had never seen anything quite like this one before. Had he not chosen to sleep shirtless, on top of his blankets, his slight build and mop of ridiculous pink hair might have led me to assume he was a woman, and I'd entered the wrong room. While a washbasin filled with reddish-brown water suggested he'd made a token attempt at bathing himself, he was still remarkably filthy, and had foolishly positioned himself as far from his weapons and armor as was physically possible. Not a single aspect of his actions or appearance suggested an aptitude for stealth, discretion, or even self-preservation; if I hadn't known better, I'd have assumed he was trying to get himself murdered in his sleep. In spite of my best efforts, the Dunmer proved... resistant to my attempts at waking him, and I was left with little choice but to watch him sleep until he woke of his own accord. I hoped that he at least preferred to start his days early...

\----------

I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever the world decided to throw at me. Until I sat up and noticed that the world had thrown a strange, robed man standing over my bed at me, anyway. Whatever he wanted from me, I didn't think it was anything good, so I did what any reasonable person would have done in that situation and tried tackling him to the floor. When it actually worked, I wished I'd thought up the rest of my plan before putting it into action. Then I might have done something better than just sitting on his chest until he flipped us over and pinned me to the floor.

"Would you stop struggling? I am not trying to harm you!" he hissed, glaring at me from beneath his hood. Most of his face was too shadowy for me to get a good look at, but his nose definitely looked Imperial, and if the stubble covering his jaw was anything to go by, he hadn't shaved in at least a day.

"It's not me I'm worried about!" I managed to wriggle out from under him somehow, and made a dash for my shortsword, that I'd left all the way across the room like an idiot. The man looked far too much like the assassins that had murdered the emperor for my liking, and I was not about to sit by and watch as Martin was murdered, too. I didn't make it far before my attacker was on me again, pinning me against a wall this time.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but I assure you that my intentions here are entirely nonviolent... So long as you cooperate, anyway."

Martin picked that exact moment to collect me so that we could continue on our journey. "Come on Remy, you can sleep more at Cloud Ruler Temple; Jauffre says we need to be going hours ago, and... I'll just leave you two alone for now..." he said, turning around and firmly shutting the door behind him after he got a good look at us.

"Damn," I muttered, looking wistfully at the door as I tried to get myself free again. Even if he'd gotten the completely wrong idea about what was going on, I still felt like I'd betrayed Martin somehow, and I wanted nothing more than to find him and explain what had really happened. I wasn't going anywhere until whoever had me pinned against the wall got what he wanted, though, so I let myself go limp. "Fine, I'll hear you out. Will you at least tell me your name?"

"I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity... to join our rather unique family."

"Please continue, Lucien. ...You can let go of me now. I won't run." Lucien let go of me, and I think I surprised us both when I kept my word. I'm not sure what it was, but something about his voice and the way he talked made me want to hear the rest of what he had to say. He wasn't half bad to look at, either, or at least the parts of his face I could see under his hood weren't. I wondered what he'd look like without it. Gods, he even smelled nice... like crushed herbs and flowers. Granted, he was still an assassin, which meant he could have been involved in the emperor's death, but seeing as he hadn't tried to kill Martin while he was standing in my doorway, I doubted it. Besides, I didn't know much about the Dark Brotherhood, but it didn't seem like they'd be stupid enough to risk angering the entire Empire by wiping out the Septim bloodline. I didn't see how hearing him out would hurt anything.

"Ah, I find your etiquette refreshing. Especially considering your... initial response to my presence. On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

"Oh gods, this is awkward... You see, I'm not actually a murderer. That guard in Kvatch was an accident, and I don't know what you heard about the other murders and necrophilia, but I swear I didn't do it!"

Lucien raised an eyebrow when I mentioned the necrophilia charge, but nothing else I'd said seemed to affect him. "No? The Night Mother seems to think otherwise. Allow me to grand you a gift, in case you reconsider. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood." he said, offering me a rather nice-looking dagger.

I wasn't about to let an opportunity like that pass me by, so I took it. It would be easier to use than the shortsword I'd been stuck with, at least.

"Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we meet again soon," Lucien purred, then walked out my door and disappeared before I could say anything else.

I just stood there for a moment, staring at the dagger. I had no idea why, but I was actually considering taking Lucien up on his offer. At first, I wondered if he'd cast some kind of charm spell on me, but it wouldn't have made sense for him to wait to cast it until he left instead of using it to stop me from struggling in the first place. I'd come up with the idea on my own, and I didn't know if I liked the thought of that. Yes, I'd always had a bit of a... creative interpretation of the Empire's laws, but prostitution and an occasional bit of petty thievery were a far cry from joining an assassin's guild. Assassination probably paid better, of course, and it wasn't necessarily any more likely to land me in a prison cell, but I liked to think I was above murdering innocent people in cold blood.

Then again, if Rufio had managed to get the Dark Brotherhood called on him, he couldn't have been that innocent. And if I didn't murder him, someone else would, so it wasn't like I'd be saving him by refusing take the contract. Even if I wanted to save him, sabotaging the Dark Brotherhood's plans to murder him seemed like a bad idea. Killing Rufio didn't mean I actually had to join the Dark Brotherhood, anyway. If I really didn't like the feeling, I'd just turn Lucien down and get on with my life. I didn't exactly have a shining reputation to uphold, either; going the entire rest of my life without committing a single crime wouldn't erase everything I'd already been arrested for. Whether I'd been pardoned or not, no guard was ever going to trust me again. But I didn't know if that justified me going along with what they expected of me and killing a random person out of curiosity...

I couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day, and I didn't say much for the rest of the journey to Cloud Ruler Temple. We still weren't any closer to getting the amulet back, but at least Martin would be safe surrounded by a small army of Blades, the official guards of Tamriel's emperor. I probably should have realized that my involvement with Martin and the amulet wouldn't end there, and I found myself traveling back to the Imperial City on my own to ask Baurus, the Blade that had survived the emperor's assassination, if he had found any information on the group that was behind said assassination. But not before I paid a visit to the Inn of Ill Omen.


	3. Welcome to the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the changes in this chapter were spiffying up some clunky bits of narrative and hopefully getting things to flow a bit better than they did originally. If anyone was actually curious about that.

I pressed myself into a corner of the room I'd rented for the night, trying to catch my breath and stop shaking as my mind replayed everything I'd just done. It had all been so easy... I'd slipped into Rufio's room, shut the door behind me, then slit his throat while he slept; he didn't even wake up until it was too late to do anything but bleed out onto his pillow. Then I'd just walked back up to my room like nothing happened. No one else in the inn even bothered to give me a second look. Things couldn't have gone any better, really. As long as I didn't spend too much time at the inn the next morning, they wouldn't even be able to question me about the murder, let alone convict me for it. To be honest, it felt... good. Like I'd accomplished some great, honorable task. And it scared me a little.

I'd felt guilty over accidentally killing that guard in Kvatch, when there was nothing I could've done to avoid it, but intentionally murdering an old man in his sleep didn't bother me at all. Instead of feeling worse, like it should have, it felt a hundred times better. Gods, with Rufio I'd killed him just so I could join the Dark Brotherhood, where I'd end up killing more random strangers, and even that didn't bother me like it should have. If anything, it just made me curious about what would happen if I tried it again, if it would give me the same thrill or I'd stop feeling it after a while. I wasn't at all sure I liked the feeling, and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd made the right choice. I knew Martin and Jauffre wouldn't approve, but my employment with them wasn't near as reliable as what I could have with the Dark Brotherhood, and I didn't have much in the way of other job offers. Still shaking, I dragged myself over to my bedroll, but I kept thinking too much to fall asleep. I must have managed it at some point, though, because I woke up with a familiar set of robes sitting next to me.

"So, the deed is done," Lucien purred. "How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the family."

"What if I don't want to be?" I asked, trying to unwrap myself from my blanket. I wished I knew how my sleeping self managed to wrap himself up in it so tightly; I could never manage it while I was awake.

"You've certainly gone to quite a lot of trouble on our behalf for someone who doesn't wish to join the Dark Brotherhood. What changed your mind?"

"I just killed an innocent man in his sleep, and I feel happy... That can't be right, can it? I committed a murder; I'm supposed to feel guilty, aren't I?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Lucien asked, chuckling in the most attractively evil way I'd ever heard when I looked at him like he was out of his mind. "If anything you've proven yourself to have a bright future ahead of you in our family. That bloodlust of yours will serve you, and Sithis, well."

"You really think so?" All the doubts I'd felt had vanished at the sound of his laugh, and I felt like I was under a charm spell again. I don't know what he must have thought of me, blushing and looking at him like a love-stricken puppy unable to do anything but blindly follow his master. There was nothing to be done for it, though; I was attracted to the man, and I just needed to find a way to live with that. Strange as it felt to be in that position, if I wanted that attraction to turn into anything real, I'd be the one pursuing Lucien, not the other way around. If I was even the sort of thing he'd go for in the first place. At that point, it was probably a bit late to try and pull off a graceful, seductive act. He'd never believe it. Not that I actually planned to pursue anything with him, of course. I had too many other things to think about. If I stopped thinking about them, I was sure the feelings would go away. I'd just need to find someone else to be attracted to.

"Of course. I do not say such things lightly."

"So... what do I do now?"

"Now, you embrace your fate," Lucien replied. "The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink. As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. In the city of Cheydinhal, you will find an abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: 'Sanguine, my Brother'. You will gain access to the sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva. We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following... your progress. Welcome to the family." Then he stood up and headed for the door.

"Wait!" I said, catching hold of his sleeve. "Don't leave yet."

"And why not? I have things to do other than chatting with you, you know."

"That was... a lot to take in. I just want to be sure I understood everything properly. I go to Cheydinhal, find the abandoned house, go through the black door in the basement, and find Ocheeva, right?"

"Yes."

"And the passphrase is 'Sanguine, my Brother'?"

"That is correct. Will you let go of my robe now, or am I going to have to leave it with you?"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'no' to that, but it's not what I'm after. I just have one more question." I let go of his sleeve.

"And what would that be?"

"I'll get to see you again, won't I? This isn't the last contact we'll have with each other?"

Lucien looked at me strangely for a moment, then smiled. At least he seemed to find me amusing, if nothing else. "Well, that is an interesting thing to ask," he purred, "I don't normally make a habit of visiting recruits, but you did ask rather nicely... Perhaps I'll consider making an exception."

"You will?" That had gone better than I expected it to.

"Yes. I am nothing if not a man of my word. Continue fulfilling contracts for our family and, provided you refrain from doing anything stupid or getting yourself killed along the way, I may pay you a visit. Does that... satisfy you?"

"It does. Thank you."

"Excellent. You are now one with the Dark Brotherhood. Visit Ocheeva at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary and your new life will begin." Lucien turned himself invisible before trying to leave again, and left me and my thoughts shut in my room together when he was gone.

I just stared at the door for a while, trying to figure out what had gone wrong with me over the past few days. I must've looked like the worst kind of fool. Really, who could possibly have any respect for someone who went from feeling sick at the thought of enjoying an assassination to being completely happy and fine with it because someone they'd come into contact with all of two times complimented them for it? I knew I didn't respect myself at the moment. Gods, when had I turned into such a weak, soppy mess? I'd never let my opinion be swayed so easily before, and there was no reason why some assassin should be so damn special he could just walk into my life and start making a mess of my mind. I just hoped Lucien didn't ask me to jump off any bridges. If our past meetings were anything to go by, I'd probably do it without a second thought.

And yet, there I was, writing down exactly what I was supposed to do to complete my initiation into the Dark Brotherhood on a scrap of paper so I wouldn't forget. It was official: I was completely, utterly insane. Probably masochistic too, seeing as I was about to go out and work myself into more of a mess than I was already, as profitable as that mess was likely to be. Still, I had some sense of dignity left, somewhere. I'd go and talk to Baurus first, and the Dark Brotherhood would just have to wait until I was done with that. Saving the world was more important than earning a bit of extra coin, and it would be a nice way to prove that I still had plenty of free will left and wouldn't have had any problems turning Lucien's offer down if I'd really wanted to. I'd never let anyone take control of my life before, and I certainly wasn't about to start now. Or ever, for that matter.

Saying I was nervous would've been an understatement. I might have gotten an official pardon for my crimes in Bruma, but that pardon had happened in the castle dungeon, with only a few guards there to witness it. I didn't have any way of knowing how far news of that pardon had spread, if Bruma's guards had bothered spreading it at all, and without Martin and Jauffre there to bail me out, I didn't want to know what would happen if the Imperial City guards decided to arrest me again. Whatever it was, I was fairly certain it wouldn't be pleasant, so I decided to err on the side of caution and not get myself seen by any more people than I absolutely needed to. Which meant I'd had to find my way to Luther Broad's Boarding House in the most ridiculous, convoluted way possible to avoid running into any guards, who probably wouldn't have had any trouble figuring out who I was if they got a good look at me. I probably needed to look into finding a way to hide my hair as soon as possible; it made me stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd, but once I got it covered I'd fit in nicely, and if I could manage that my life would get a little bit easier.

Somehow, I managed to reach the boarding house without any trouble, and once I got inside Baurus wasn't hard to locate. He shushed me when I tried to talk to him though, then pulled me down onto the stool next to him and told me I'd have to help him take care of a stalker he'd attracted before it was safe for him to tell me anything. The stalker wasn't hard to dispose of; Baurus was more than capable of handling himself in a fight, even without his armor, and the poor sod hadn't expected to be attacked from behind as well. Maybe joining the Dark Brotherhood wasn't as insane as I'd thought it was. It seemed like I'd be killing people no matter what I did, and the only real difference was the reasoning behind it.

After giving the corpse a quick search, we found a copy of the first volume of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries. That little discovery resulted in me spending the rest of the day sneaking around the city in search of the other three volumes that went along with it. I got a free copy of the second volume from a friend of the Blades at the Arcane University, and I'd managed to convince a Bosmer to reconsider joining the Mythic Dawn and give up his copy of the third volume after telling him they were the ones who murdered the emperor. Getting a copy of the fourth volume was more of a challenge, starting with another visit to the Imperial City sewer system with Baurus. Its inhabitants hadn't gotten any friendlier since the last time we'd been there.

I cringed as yet another rat decided to attack us, adding another layer to the sewer filth I was already covered in. Normally, I wasn't overly concerned with cleanliness, but being surrounded by piles of sludge that I had no interest in knowing the origins of and being attacked by creatures that had, for whatever reason, decided to call those sludge piles home would've had anyone fantasizing about a bath. Or at least a clean set of clothing. I just hoped that wandering the sewers wouldn't end up being part of everything I did. If things continued on the way they were going, I was worried I wouldn't be able to keep helping Martin without letting go of what was left of my sanity. After seeing how many of them called the sewers home, I already knew I'd never be able to eat mudcrab legs again.

"So, was this what you were expecting when you decided to join the Blades?" I asked, trying to distract us both from the muck we were standing knee-deep in.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, sewer exploration, pest control, studying elusive Daedric cults..."

"If you mean doing whatever it takes to protect the emperor, then yes, this is what I was expecting. I understand that you've sworn yourself to no such thing, but if you don't intend to take your mission seriously then you are free to leave," Baurus replied. "This is not a situation that should be taken lightly."

"Sorry... Shutting up now," I mumbled, wondering what I'd done to set him off. I supposed I could understand why he might not have liked me; I had failed at keeping the emperor safe from one assassin in a sealed room. He might not have liked himself much at the moment either, seeing as he'd also let the emperor down. I really couldn't blame him for not looking kindly on anything that came between him and protecting the emperor's son, whether it was an attempt at conversation during a mission or Mythic Dawn assassins. It was probably best to keep quiet, anyway.

"Thank you."

We walked on in silence for a while before finally reaching the door that was supposed to lead us to a room where we could meet with a member of the Mythic Dawn that had the fourth volume of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries. Baurus wanted to handle the meeting himself at first, but I managed to talk him into just watching in case things went wrong while I went to the meeting somehow. It wasn't the safest way to do things, but if whoever we were meeting with recognized him as a Blade, our entire plan would've been ruined. The chances of me getting recognized were a bit lower.

Granted, our plan fell through anyway when two other members of the Mythic Dawn noticed Baurus before I could get the book, but at least they decided to fight us instead of running away. Neither of us were in good condition after that, but we made it out alive, with the last book we needed. Of course, the books weren't going to be of any use to use until we figured out what anything in them actually meant, which was going take our contact at the Arcane University a couple days to work out, at least. Baurus had to get back to Cloud Ruler Temple as soon as we dropped the books off, so I was on my own until she figured out exactly what it was I needed to do. Instead of lounging about the city until that happened, I decided to make productive use of my spare time and make a trip to Cheydinhal.


	4. A Watery Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only change of note in this chapter is a bit of added characterization. I hope you enjoy it!

When I saw the door at the end of the long, dimly lit hallway under the abandoned house in Cheydinhal, it was almost enough to make me turn around and leave. I'd never cared much for dark, cramped spaces, and there'd always been something about undead and skeletal things that just... didn't sit right with me. Seeing as the entrance to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary had combined both of those things into a door with a skull carved into it at the end of a dark, cramped hallway, the thought of going through it didn't appeal to me much. Still, I'd come too far to turn back because I didn't like the way the Dark Brotherhood decorated their home. It probably made sense for the entrance to an assassin's guild to look as foreboding as possible, really. If nothing else, it probably did wonders in driving unwelcome guests away. Besides, unless the Dark Brotherhood was secretly a guild of vampire necromancers, I didn't see any reason why the inside of the sanctuary wouldn't be well-lit and skeleton free.

Once I'd reassured myself that I'd made the right choice in deciding to have a look at the sanctuary before judging it, taking a few steps forward and putting a hand on it to try and push it open was easy. And then the damn thing talked.

"What is the color of night?" it asked, with a booming, raspy voice that scared me halfway out of my skin.

Instead of saying the passphrase like I was supposed to, I made an odd little squeaky noise, took a step backward, tripped over my own foot, and fell on my ass. Yes, I'd been told that I'd need to answer a question before getting into the sanctuary, but I'd assumed that meant I'd be talking to someone behind the door, not the door itself. That would've been a handy thing to know beforehand, really. I couldn't have been the first recruit to assume there wouldn't be any magical talking doors in a dark, moldy basement... right? Unless I was, and there was something horribly wrong with my mind. In addition to everything else that seemed to be wrong with my mind lately, anyway.

"What is the color of night?" the door asked again, more slowly this time.

"Sanguine, my brother?" I said, hoping it focused more on the words themselves than the way I said them. If not, I was going to be sitting there for a long time...

"Welcome home," the door replied, swinging open surprisingly smoothly for a solid block of stone.

I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, then stood up, brushed myself off, and walked into the sanctuary. Once I'd stepped through it, the door snapped itself closed behind me, like it was shutting me off from my last chance to change my mind about joining the Dark Brotherhood.

I wasn't sure about the rest of the sanctuary, but the chamber I was standing in looked... cozy, for lack of a better word. It was better lit than the passage leading to it, and aside from a few blood red tapestries marked with black handprints on the walls, it wasn't decorated any differently than most homes. I didn't have any trouble at all imagining people living there. If I hadn't had a house of my own, I might have considered moving in myself. Just as I'd gotten around to wondering whether I should try and find Ocheeva on my own or wait for somebody to notice me and ask them for directions, an Argonian wearing a set of black leather armor walked into the room.

She blinked at me a couple of times, then smiled and came closer to me. "Greetings!" she said, wrapping her arms around me like I was her long-lost child. "I am Ocheeva, mistress of this sanctuary. May it serve as a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises. Lucien has told me all about you. I welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood!"

That hug felt better than it had any right to, and I felt more than a little sad when it ended. No one had touched me like that for years. "Thanks. I'm glad to be here."

"When you're ready for work, go and speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for new family members. But before you go, please accept this gift from your new family. A unique set of armor, lighter than normal leather and black as the Void."

"Really?" I asked, taking the bundle of armor she'd offered me. "This looks too nice for a recruit."

"Even our newest members are worthy of the Night Mother's protection. Now, I've kept you too long. Vicente is waiting. You'll find him in his quarters, at the end of the hall. Go now, my child, and may Sithis go with you."

"Right. May Sithis go with you, too." I hoped I'd managed to respond properly. All this 'Sithis' business was going to take some getting used to... Hopefully they'd forgive me if I slipped up every now and again. A bit of confusion had to be normal at first, right?

Eager as I was to get a good look at my new armor, I figured it was probably best to introduce myself to my new guildmates first, so I stuffed it into my pack and went looking for them. After exploring the rest of the sanctuary, I'd met a Breton by the name of Antoinetta Marie, an Orc named Gogron gro-Bolmog, a Khajiit, M'raaj-Dar, Ocheeva's brother, Teinaava, Telaendril, a Bosmer, and the sanctuary's pet rat, Schemer. Everyone was much friendlier than I'd expected a group of assassins to be. Everyone except for M'raaj-Dar, anyway; he didn't even wait until he'd told me his name before telling me I stank and he wanted nothing to do with me. Still, even with him glaring daggers at me every time we were in the same room, I didn't see any reason I couldn't start seeing everyone else as family someday. The only thing I had in common with most of them was an interest in murder and appreciation for Lucien (who had aged incredibly gracefully if he'd really trained Ocheeva and Teinaava when they were just hatchlings), but that seemed to be enough similarity for everyone else to get along. Once I'd met everyone else there was to meet, I went looking for Vicente so I could get to work.

"Ah, there you are. So good to finally meet you," Vicente said as I entered his room. "Warmest greetings! I trust you've already spoken with Ocheeva?"

"Yes, I have." I tried not to stare at him, but that was easier said than done. It isn't every day you see a Breton with blood-red eyes and a set of fangs that would put a saber cat to shame, after all. Then again, he probably wasn't a Breton so much as a vampire anymore, but that didn't make him any less unusual. Still, unless he was trying to drink my blood, it really wasn't my business whether he was a vampire or not. He seemed friendly enough, and I had no reason not to try and be friendly back. One member of the Dark Brotherhood hating me was more than enough, especially considering that I'd only officially joined less than an hour ago.

"I am Vicente Valtieri. I provide assignments for all new family members. Please, do not let my appearance... unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire." Vicente smiled, and it would have been a lot less unnerving if it hadn't been for those fangs of his. "Now, if you're ready to get to work, I can provide you with your first contract."

"I'm Remy, though I suppose you already knew that... And I'm ready for that contract, if that's all right."

"Excellent." He flashed those fangs of his at me again. "Here is what you must do. Go to the Waterfront District of the Imperial City. There you will find a ship named the Marie Elena. Board the ship and find its captain, Gaston Tussaud. He'll be in his cabin. Eliminate Tussaud in any manner you see fit. The pirates have been moving a lot of cargo on board lately, so you may be able to smuggle yourself onboard in one of the packing crates. Oh, and one more thing. Get into the habit of asking your fellow family members about any current contract. Their insight may prove invaluable."

I just nodded, trying to make sense of everything he'd told me as best I could. Taking notes on what people wanted me to do while they were talking instead of scribbling down the bits and pieces I could remember later would have probably been a better way to do things, but the strange looks I'd have gotten for it just didn't seem worth it at the time. As long as I got the main idea, I didn't see how forgetting a few little details could hurt anything.

"Spill some blood for me, dear brother," Vicente called after me as I left the room.

"I'll try to. I just hope it isn't my own." I stopped, halfway out the door. "Is that just an expression, or do you actually want me to get some of Tussaud's blood for you?"

"It was only an expression. I have enough of a supply here to keep myself fed for quite some time." He chuckled, and I could almost feel him smiling again behind me. "Though I am most grateful for your consideration."

"Um... right. Thank you. Just trying to be a good family member..." I swallowed, then walked out of the room. My legs were screaming at me the entire way, but I managed to make it back to the sanctuary's main room without running. Vicente seemed like a perfectly nice man, and he hadn't made any attempts at eating me. Repaying that by running away in fear of him because I couldn't handle a set of fangs just wouldn't have been right.

I thought about heading straight back to the Imperial City, but it was already late in the evening and I hadn't had a good night's rest since leaving my prison cell. Staying the night at the sanctuary and getting an early start the next morning made much more sense. Before turning in for the night, I asked around about my contract, hoping I could at least get some information about the Marie Elena. Teinaava mentioned a balcony attached to Tussaud's quarters, but other than that I was on my own. Still, I felt like I knew enough to figure out a plan once I saw the ship for myself, so I flopped down on an empty bed in the living quarters and made myself comfortable.

I got up early the next morning, only staying in the living quarters long enough to gather my things and grab myself a loaf of bread for the road before heading up the stairs to the sanctuary's main room. I'd kept myself as quiet as possible so I didn't wake anyone else, but that plan got a hole punched in it when the first thing I saw when I opened the door was a skeleton staring into my soul with its empty eye sockets. I just stood there for a moment, like someone had frozen my feet to the floor, then the skeleton clacked its teeth at me and I screamed and slammed the door shut in its face. I sank to the floor, leaning against the door to keep that thrice-damned thing from getting in, and I was surprised when only Antoinetta wandered up the stairs to investigate instead of the entire sanctuary.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You've gone white as a sheet. Well, I suppose really light blue would be more accurate, but there's no expression for that."

"You... seem to have a slight undead problem."

"What are you talking about? The only undead thing here is our Dark Guardian, and I doubt anything else could've found its way in. Are you sure you aren't seeing things?"

"You mean that thing is supposed to be in here?"

"Of course he is, silly! We wouldn't let just any skeleton go shambling about our home."

"I'm sorry I woke you, then." I stood up and took a step away from the door. Even if the Dark Guardian hadn't been friendly, it didn't seem too interested in breaking in. "I just wasn't expecting to see that first thing in the morning."

"It's all right. Everyone's afraid of something; I'd have done the same thing if a jester wandered in. Just try to keep it down next time, will you?"

"Will do. How did everyone else manage to sleep through that, though? I was afraid I'd woken the whole sanctuary."

"Telaendril left late last night, and everyone else sleeps like a rock. They have to, if they want to get any sleep with Gogron snoring the way he does." Antoinetta shrugged. "What are you doing up so early, anyway?"

"I'm leaving for the Imperial City. I want to make sure I get there in time to get a good look at that ship before nightfall, so I figured it would be best to get an early start, before the roads get too crowded."

"Good luck then, brother! I hope you don't get killed. I mean, um... well, you know!"

"I'll try not to," I replied, then had another try at leaving the sanctuary.

Luckily, the Dark Guardian wasn't there when I opened the door again, and I managed to make it out into Cheydinhal without making any more noise. Nice as my new armor was, I figured it was probably best to just put my hood on until I needed the rest of it. In the four years I'd spent in the Imperial City, I'd never seen an adventurer wearing a set of pitch black leather armor; walking through the city wearing it would've made me look even more out of place than usual. I needed to stop by the Arcane University to see if the Mythic Dawn Commentaries were decoded yet, after all, and I didn't need anyone asking questions about why I'd decided to dress myself so strangely.

I didn't run into any trouble on my way back to the Imperial City, and when I got to the Arcane University they'd figured out where the Mythic Dawn hid directions to their shrine. I found the tomb it was etched into and got its location marked down just before the sunbeam lighting it up moved out of place, and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find a way to sneak myself onto the Marie Elena.

The ship's decks were heavily guarded, so I wouldn't be getting in that way unless I wanted to do it in pieces. The crates Vicente had mentioned seemed like a safer bet. Once I got a good look at them, I didn't see any reason I couldn't squeeze myself into one, but I had no idea how long I'd need to spend inside it waiting for someone to carry me onto the ship. It didn't look like it would be a comfortable journey, either, judging by the way the crew handled their cargo.

In the end, the balcony Teinaava pointed out looked like my most appealing option. It looked like it was close enough to the docks for me to jump to, if I was lucky. Of course, if I wasn't lucky I'd end up falling into Lake Rumare and making a splash someone was bound to notice, which would require a bit of explaining on my part. Though even if it came to that, I was almost certain I'd serviced the ship's first mate a few times in the past, after I got a good look at her. If she was who I thought she was, I didn't think I'd have much trouble convincing her I'd meant no harm if jumping to the balcony didn't work out the way I planned. If I got caught trying to sneak onto the ship another way, she probably wouldn't have been as easy to persuade.

No matter how I decided to get myself onto the ship, I was going to have to wait until nightfall. I managed to kill some time by making a trip to the market district to get my weapons and armor patched up, but I spent most of my evening in my shack, trying to figure out how exactly my Dark Brotherhood armor was supposed to work. After what felt like hours of fiddling with the ridiculous number of intricate little fastenings on every last one of its pieces, I was fairly certain I'd gotten it right. Or at least, right enough, which left me questioning how it fit me so perfectly. Almost too perfectly, really; it molded itself to my body tightly enough that I couldn't find a way to fit a set of undergarments underneath it. Or at least, there wasn't room for the kind that aren't supposed to get ripped off you right away. And those wouldn't have been very comfortable to go sneaking around the Waterfront in.

In spite of that minor setback, the time I spent getting the armor on was more than worth the effort when I found a good spot to make my jump from. It was quieter and a lot less bulky than my Kvatch cuirass, and it let me get lost in the shadows better than I could have dreamed of without it. Once I was certain none of Tussaud's crew were watching me, I gave myself the best running start I could and hurled myself at his balcony. After spending more time in the air than I would have liked, I caught hold of the railing and hauled myself up. The lock on his door wasn't easy to pick, but I got it open after a few tries, and the door itself opened and shut more quietly than I dared to hope. Tussaud himself was snoring away on his bed, like he didn't have a care in the world.

I made it to the side of his bed without him so much as stirring, and I'd just gotten my dagger into place to slit his throat when he flipped himself over. Instead of killing him, I just nicked him a little, and he didn't look too pleased with me when that woke him up. He put up a good fight, and I'd have plenty of bruises to show for it the next morning, but I had a weapon and he didn't. All I had to do was get a couple good stabs in, and he was bleeding out on his floor. Still, we'd probably made enough noise to let every member of his crew know something was wrong.

Sure enough, just as I'd finished pocketing a pricey-looking amulet he wore and prying a few rings off his fingers, someone started banging on the door. I wasn't particularly eager to find out who it was, so I didn't waste any time getting myself back onto the balcony and into Lake Rumare. From there, I was only a quick swim to shore and a dash to the Waterfront's residential area away from home. When I was safe inside my shack, with my door locked behind me, I only waited long enough to store the jewelry I'd taken from Tussaud's corpse under a loose floorboard before getting a fire going. I tried to get my armor off once I'd warmed and dried myself, but after a lengthy struggle just to get my boots off I decided to call it a night and try again in the morning. If all else failed, I could just ask for help back at the sanctuary, and once I'd gotten myself out of it once I didn't think I'd have any trouble doing it again.


	5. Dawn Is Breaking

After what felt like only a few moments of sleep, someone gave my ear a good flick and had me wide awake again. Wondering if I'd left my door unlocked and some lost drunk or beggar had wandered in, I turned myself over and forced my eyes open. When my vision cleared enough for me to make out a set of black robes with an Imperial nose standing over me, I wasn't sure I'd woken up at all. Then again, if I was still dreaming Lucien would've woken me with something nicer than a flick on the ear, and we both would have been wearing a bit less clothing. I decided I was awake, after all. What I'd done to provoke him into treating my poor ear like that when I hadn't so much as seen him in a few days was beyond me, though.

"What'd you do that for?" I asked, sitting up as I rubbed my ear to try and get rid of some of the stinging. "That hurt; couldn't you have flicked something less sensitive?"

"You refused to respond to less violent attempts at waking you, and I have better things to do with my time than watch you sleep," Lucien replied. It was hard to tell for certain in the dim light, but it looked like he was smirking under that hood of his. It seemed like the sort of thing he'd do. "I also felt that you deserved some form of reprimand after your... questionable choice in ship-boarding methods."

"How'd you know about that? I can't have killed the man more than a few hours ago."

"I had some business to take care of in the area, and I happened to witness your attempt to fly. I'd ask what the reasoning behind it was, but that would involve dignifying your actions with the assumption that you'd actually planned them."

I shrugged. "It seemed like the best way to get where I needed to be. You'd have thought I'd done brilliantly if you hadn't seen that. You didn't really follow me back here just to give me a scolding, did you? That seems a bit... excessive."

"I was under the impression that you wanted me to check in on you from time to time. You seemed to find my company rather desirable when last we spoke. If my presence here is unwanted, however, I have no objection to leaving..."

"Well, you already went to the trouble of breaking into my house and waking me up, and I'm not likely to fall asleep again anytime soon, so you might as well stay for a while. Not sure why you couldn't have taken the hood off first, though. Getting people used to waking up with that standing over them seems like a great way to get them killed. Unless that's the point..."

"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have had a chance to wake up in the first place," Lucien scoffed. "How you managed to sleep at all without removing your armor first, however, is another matter entirely. Were you really too exhausted to bother with taking proper care of your equipment?"

"I've slept in worse. And I couldn't figure out how to take it off." I tugged at one of the buckles on my armor. "This is the sort of thing that should really come with instructions."

"I don't remember it being that difficult to work out. It isn't the armor's fault that you're incapable of dressing yourself."

"I got it on just fine; it's the undressing part I had trouble with." I laughed. "Which is a bit ironic, considering what I used to do for a living... I must be losing my touch."

"Dare I ask what you're referring to?"

"You mean you don't know? I'd have thought you'd take the time to do some form of background check before letting someone in on all the Dark Brotherhood's secrets... What if a guard got in?"

"Our screening process for new recruits is taken care of by the Night Mother herself. She would not recommend that we recruit anyone who posed a serious threat to our organization, as she would not stand to gain anything from it. Though I certainly wouldn't object to hearing the story behind why you decided it was a good idea to slaughter a guard while surrounded by witnesses."

"I could tell you, but it doesn't have anything to do with what I was doing before all this. Not directly, anyway. It's also a bit of a long story... And I'd probably sound crazy."

"We have time. And I assure you, you would find it difficult to appear any more crazy than you already do."

"I'm glad you have so much faith in me..." I sighed. I really needed to learn to keep my mouth shut about things. "Could you at least help me get this armor off, first? It's getting a bit uncomfortable."

"I suppose I can help you undress yourself, so long as you don't try to make a habit of this. If this is some sort of attempt to get me into bed with you, however, I'm afraid you'll need to try harder than that."

"Thank you," I said, hauling myself off my bed. "I think I might have to take that last bit as a challenge now, if it's all the same to you."

"I wish you the best of luck, then," Lucien purred, getting started on undoing all the buckles and ties that held my armor together. "You're going to need it."

I tried to help at first, but after he swatted my hands out of the way for what felt like the hundredth time I just held still and let him take care of it for me. I was able to get a pretty good idea of how everything worked by watching him, if nothing else. As nice as it was to be undressed by someone I was actually attracted to, this wasn't exactly the context I'd have wanted it to happen in. It felt more like I was a child who'd gotten himself tangled in his mother's knitting supplies than anything else, which was more than humiliating enough to turn me off the thought of trying it again later. Lucien didn't have anything to worry about on that front.

Still, at least it seemed like there was a possibility of things taking a turn for the romantic between us, if I played my cards right. He'd actually flirted with me, if I wasn't mistaken, and I hadn't made a complete fool of myself this time around. Aside from getting myself stuck in my armor, of course, but things were still going better than the last time we'd talked. All things considered, I was having a fairly good night.

"You could have informed me that you decided against wearing undergarments, you know," Lucien dryly remarked. So much for that line of thought.

"Sorry about that." I wrapped my blanket around myself, inwardly thanking the gods I'd had my bed so close at hand. "Are you really trying to say that you can get a set of undergarments to fit under the armor? Because I couldn't get that to work when I tried. It's too damn tight...

"I'm sure someone has managed it at one point or another. Though I will admit that that it's somewhat unlikely."

"Whose idea was it to design something that molds itself to your ass so well, anyway? It doesn't look very threatening."

"Only Sithis and the Night Mother themselves would know the answer to that. Were I in your position, however, the fit of my armor would be the least of my concerns. I'd be more interested in finding out how in Sithis' name pink was my natural hair color."

"Finding out how the story behind the armor's probably easier. Speaking of stories, do you still want to know what happened with the Kvatch guard, or did I mentally scar you out of it?"

Lucien chuckled. "It would take more than that to mentally scar me. Let's hear this story of yours."

"Well, I was enjoying an extended stay in the Imperial City prison on the night the emperor was assassinated, and his escape route happened to lead directly through my cell. For some reason he decided that I was the best-qualified person available to stop Mehrunes Dagon from taking over the world, and that I needed to track down some illegitimate son of his so that he could get the Dragonfires relit and everyone could go on with their lives. While I was on my way to find him, I ended up having to close the Oblivion gate that opened outside Kvatch and decided I'd be nice and help the guards exterminate any Daedra left in the city afterwards. Of course, one of them had to go and run between me and a Scamp I was fighting, and I accidentally killed him."

"You killed an innocent guardsman... because he got in the way of your trying to save the world?"

"No, I killed him because he lacked basic self-preservation instincts. I just happened to be trying to save the world when it happened."

"And you expect me to believe that the emperor randomly decided to leave the fate of the world in the hands of a prisoner?"

"Yes?"

"What exactly were you in there for? It can't have been murder, or I'd have recruited you before you made it to Kvatch."

"Actually, it was murder. And necrophilia. Nine counts of each. Not that I actually did any of it, but guards aren't particularly fond of asking questions and I already had a bit of a criminal history" I shrugged. Whether he believed me or not, Lucien wasn't in any position to judge me for anything I'd done. "Apparently prostitution and theft have a tendency to lead to necrophilia and murder. They aren't so different, really."

"You realize that this adds no credibility to anything you've said thus far."

"I told you it would sound crazy. Don't you think that if I was going to lie, I'd do it just a little bit better?"

"If you say so. How did your world-saving mission work out, then?"

"Not so well... In fact, I should probably be getting back to that fairly soon. The Mythic Dawn aren't going to defeat themselves, after all."

"I'll leave you to that, then," Lucien said, placing a hand on my doorknob. Why whoever had furnished my home had decided to put my bed so close to the door, I'd never know, but at that moment I was fairly certain I hated them for it.

I watched him turn the doorknob, worried I'd never see him again after that. He'd probably decided I was a lunatic and wanted to leave in case it was contagious. Not that I blamed him for it; I was just disappointed I'd ruined such a promising night because I didn't know when to shut up. I really needed to learn how to sound like a normal, sane person. Or stop ending up in odd situations. Either one would've worked, really.

I felt a bit better when Lucien added, "I expect a report on your progress in this world-saving business of yours when next we meet. If these Oblivion gates continue to open, the Dark Brotherhood will be affected as much as anyone else," before turning invisible and letting himself out.

Happy that I knew I'd at least get to see him again, I settled down for another few hours of sleep. If traveling to Dagon's shrine and finding the Amulet of Kings were anything like the last few tasks I'd carried out, I was going to need it.

I set off for Dagon's shrine as soon as I woke up the next morning. Since the shortest route there led by Cheydinhal, I stopped by the sanctuary to pick up my reward for killing Tussaud and some information on my next contract. My horse needed a bit of a breather, anyway, and I had no idea when I'd be in the area again, so it seemed like a good idea. Luckily for me, Baenlin, the old Bosmer I was supposed to kill next, lived in Bruma, so I'd be able to arrange a little 'accident' for him when I brought the amulet to Martin at Cloud Ruler Temple. Everything went perfectly until I made it to the caverns that I hoped were home to Dagon's shrine and ran straight into a mess.

I managed to convince a couple members of the Mythic Dawn that I wanted to join up with them, but getting into the shrine that way would have meant giving up all my weapons, armor, healing potions, and lockpicks. Which seemed like a bad idea, seeing as they probably wouldn't take too kindly to me running off with the Amulet of Kings once I got into the shrine. Strange as it sounded, fighting my way seemed like the safest option I had. At least I'd learned that the amulet was with their leader, Mankar Camoran, in the shrine's main chamber before things came to that.

Aside from the two guards I had to face head-on to get into the shrine, I was able to sneak past or quietly dispose of everyone else I met on my way to its main chamber. Once I got there, I had a clear view of Camoran and the rest of his followers gathered around a giant statue of Mehrunes Dagon. If I'd had a bow on me, I might've taken a shot at him, but I hadn't had any real use for one since moving to Cyrodiil. Even if I had brought a bow with me, the only real practice I'd had with one was trying to catch a few rabbits on my parents' farm; I'd probably have missed him, anyway. Before I had a chance to think of anything else, he opened some sort of portal and disappeared, taking the Amulet of Kings with him. The only thing left in the room that looked the least bit promising was a big, magical-looking book he'd been reading from before opening his portal. I figured it was better than nothing, so I grabbed it and ran.

Once I'd taken the book off its pedestal, the statue of Dagon collapsed, which bought me enough time to get out of the chamber before the rest of the Mythic Dawn could figure out what was happening. I'd have been proud of myself if the statue hadn't crushed an Argonian prisoner who'd been tied up beneath it. Still, as worrisome as my tendency to accidentally murder people I was trying to help was, I was more concerned with finding my way out of the caverns. It didn't take me long to realize that there were just as many Mythic Dawn members outside the main chamber as in it, which meant shoving the book under my robes, walking slowly, and keeping to the shadows instead of running the whole way. I managed to sneak out somehow, and once I'd found my horse and put a few miles between me and the shrine, I let myself relax a bit. I may have lost the Amulet of Kings, but I was fairly certain I'd stolen something equally important from the Mythic Dawn before they could do any more harm. With any luck, the book would have something in it that Martin and the Blades could use to come up with a new plan to get the amulet back. Or at least, I hoped so. If not, the world was doomed, and dooming the world was not something I wanted to be responsible for.

I made it to Bruma in good time, all things considered, and while I probably could've reached Cloud Ruler Temple before nightfall, I wasn't exactly looking forward to telling Martin I'd lost the amulet. I left my horse at the stables, and decided I'd stay the night at an inn and give him the news in the morning. As for Baenlin, I didn't see any harm in letting him live another day. At the moment, all I wanted to do was get drunk off my ass and pass out in what I hoped would by my room.


	6. Accidents Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically chapter the rewrite of chapter six and chapter seven, because they both had a lot of stuff that really didn't need to be in there in the form of quests that had no bearing on the main plot and didn't actually go anywhere. So, they've both been heavily trimmed down and combined here in the interest of keeping things moving at a reasonable rate.

As much as I wanted to put it off until morning, I left the inn and started up the path to Cloud Ruler Temple before I'd even finished my first drink. On foot, because my horse had earned a good night's rest and I didn't like the thought of it slipping and sending us both tumbling down the mountainside. The trip was cold, dark, and generally unpleasant, but I felt too damn guilty for my stay at the inn to have been any better. Giving people bad news was like ripping off a bandage: the faster I got it over with, the less it was going to hurt. And then Martin greeted me at the door, and I wondered if I wasn't better off running back the way I came and finding a nice cave to hide in for the rest of my life.

"Ah, you're back. I told Jauffre not to worry," he said, smiling at me like my arrival was the highlight of his day. Which I suppose it would have been, if I'd actually had the amulet with me, but seeing as I didn't, it just made things that much worse.

"Oh... You did?" I tried to look anywhere but his face. Things would be easier that way.

"I can see you have bad news. You didn't recover the amulet, did you?"

"Not exactly... It's on the other side of some kind of portal now. I did find you this book, though," I said, digging Camoran's book out of my pack. "I can't read it, but it looks important."

"By the Nine! Such a thing is dangerous even to handle!" Martin snatched it out of my hands before I could so much as blink.

"Sorry... You could've just asked for it, you know. I don't know what use I'd have for it."

Martin sighed. "Forgive me. You were right to bring it. But the Mysterium Xarxes has brought ruin upon better men than the both of us. It's safer in my hands; I know some ways to protect myself from its evil power."

"So, can we use the Mysterium... whatever-it-is to find Camoran?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I suspect that the secret of how to open a portal to Camoran's Paradise lies within these pages. But I will need time. Tampering with dark secrets, even just reading them, can be very dangerous. I'll have to proceed carefully. In the meantime, you should speak to Jauffre. He was concerned about reports of spies in Bruma."

"That's it, then?" Anger, I could have dealt with, but Martin didn't even seem annoyed with me. It had me more than a little bit nervous.

"What were you expecting?"

"You're not going to shout at me? Call me an idiot? Tell me I've ruined our chances of ending this mess in a timely fashion? Have me beaten? Or executed? ...Give me a stern talking-to while frowning at me?"

"No... Though I suppose I could, if you want me to."

"Why not? I might have just lost us the world..."

"Because Dagon hasn't succeeded in his invasion yet, and if you possess even the slightest shred of goodness within you, I have no doubt that there's nothing I could do to you that you have yet to do to yourself. Aside from executing you, obviously. And I think you'll be more useful alive than dead."

"What if I was a zombie? I could chew on Dagon's ankles as a distraction."

Martin smiled. "You'd start to stink after a while. And there's no guarantee you won't have rotted by the time Dagon actually enters this world."

"Fair enough." I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding in. For a priest, Martin was awfully accepting and easy to talk to. Not like the ones who'd throw you out of their chapel and tell you to repent when the altars didn't work for you. "I guess it's off to Jauffre, then."

"Maybe you'll get that stern talking-to of yours from him."

"But I wanted you to give me the stern talking-to. You're prettier, and you have nicer hair..."

"Just go," Martin replied, shaking his head. "Before I change my mind about that zombie offer of yours."

"All right." I opened the door and let myself out of the temple. Jauffre wasn't going to find himself, after all.

When I found him, Jauffre wanted me to look into some strangers that had been poking around by a Runestone near the temple. I wasn't his first choice for the job, but he wanted to keep as many guards around Martin as possible, and they were less likely to recognize me than an actual Blade. It seemed simple enough, once he'd marked the Runestone on my map, but I wouldn't get a chance at stopping them until the next evening. By that point it was too late for finding my way back to Bruma to make any sense, so, much as I hated the thought of wasting gold on a room I didn't use, I decided to spend the night at the temple. A cozy bedroll by the fire was nicer than a cold bed, anyway.

I left the temple late the next afternoon, and spent the next few hours watching the Runestone. Eventually, a pair of travelers showed up, and decided to attack me before I could ask any questions. They weren't hard to kill, but they hadn't given me anything to bring back to Jauffre, either, so I decided to see if I couldn't find the house the key I'd found on one of their corpses belonged to. After a bit of awkward fumbling with several wrong doors, a guard took pity on me and showed me where I needed to go. He was also nice enough to point out who lived where along the way, and Baenlin's house just happened to be on the same street he walked me down. Carrying out my contract had just gotten easier.

The house that the Mythic Dawn spies had been staying in wasn't anything special, once I got inside and had a look around. The only interesting thing I could find was a trapdoor, which led to a basement that was just as shockingly normal as the house's main floor. There wasn't even a miniature daedric shrine. I found a few copies of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries after poking around a little, as well as a letter with a fancy wax seal. The books weren't anything new, but the letter seemed to be a copy of the Mythic Dawn's plans. They'd gotten it into their heads that I was a major threat to them, somehow, which would have been flattering if I wasn't so worried about what would happen if they actually succeeded in their plans to open up multiple Oblivion gates outside Bruma. Closing one had been tricky enough, and if things went according to their plan, there'd be at least three to worry about. The basement also had a door that opened into a set of caverns that led outside the city, which would probably need to get sealed off so the Mythic Dawn couldn't get any more use out of them.

Cloud Ruler Temple wasn't far from the entrance to the caverns, but unless I wanted to spend an extra day in Bruma, reporting back to Jauffre was going to have to wait until after I'd taken care of Baenlin. There was probably another task waiting for me back at the temple, and I had no way of knowing where it would take me. Luckily for me, Bruma was more of a Nord city than an Imperial one, and most of its houses had a cellar door outside, if you knew where to look. Baenlin's house had a particularly large one, which saved me the trouble of trying to sneak in through the front door. Once I was inside, all I had to do was sneak upstairs, squeeze myself into a crawlspace, and loosen a set of ties holding up a stuffed Minotaur head over his reading chair. The thumpy, squelching sound it made when it landed was more than enough for me to be sure that Baenlin had read his last book. I tried to get a look at his body when I sneaked back to the cellar, but all I could see was the Minotaur head, some chair splinters, and one of his feet. It was almost disappointing, really. I'd expected more of a mess.

When I made it back to Cloud Ruler Temple, I only stopped long enough to drop off the plans I'd found with Jauffre and tell him about the caverns before going to see if Martin had learned anything from the Mysterium Xarxes. I found him sitting at a table in a corner, hunched over the book like he didn't want anyone else to get a look at it.

"So," I said, taking a seat next to him. "Have you made any sense of this yet?"

"Partially. I've deciphered part of the ritual needed to open a portal to Camoran's Paradise. The Xarxes mentions four items needed for the ritual, but so far I have only deciphered one of them: the 'blood of a Daedra Lord'. In fact, daedric artifacts are known to be formed from the essence of a Daedric Lord, from whence they derive their great power. Not an easy thing to come by, obviously, but we will need a daedric artifact."

"And I take it I'm the one who will be finding this artifact?"

"Now you're catching on."

"All right, then. How exactly am I supposed to go about getting one?" I wasn't sure why I was the only person who got sent out to collect things, but I supposed it was only fair after I'd lost us the amulet. I wasn't in much of a position to say 'no' if I'd wanted to.

"The only way to obtain a daedric artifact is through the cults devoted to each of the Daedric Lords. Remember, the Mysterium Xarxes ritual will consume the physical form of the artifact in order to release its daedric power, so don't bring me anything you aren't prepared to lose," Martin replied. "Hopefully I've made some progress in deciphering the rest of the ritual by the time you return."

"Good luck with that, then." I wasn't crazy enough to think that tracking down a daedric artifact would be fun, but it had to be better than decoding evil books.

I decided it was best to leave before anyone thought of something else I needed to do, so I rented myself a room in Bruma for the night. I knew I probably shouldn't have been spending so much time on them, but I wasn't sure how I'd have managed without the pay from my Dark Brotherhood contracts. I wasn't getting any septims out of helping Martin, and I had to keep myself fed and housed somehow.

Cheydinhal seemed like as good a place as any to start my search for daedric shrines, so I went there first thing the next morning. The fact that it gave me a chance to pick up my reward for assassinating Baenlin was just icing on the sweetroll. Speaking of which, it had been far too long since I'd had one of the delightful little pastries; I'd have to pick a few up for myself as a reward once all this Oblivion business was over with.

Asking around about daedric shrines got me more strange looks than anything else, but a few people had heard something about a strange door in the middle of the Niben Bay, which sounded daedric enough to warrant investigating. It wasn't as though I had any better ideas. With that taken care of, I let myself into the abandoned house and headed for the sanctuary. Once my eyes had a chance to adjust to the dim lighting, I made my way down to Vicente's chamber, trying to keep as much distance between me and the Dark Guardian as possible. I just didn't trust the thing; it was too terrifying for me to let my guard down around it. Why the Dark Brotherhood even needed a guard in the first place was beyond me, and why they couldn't have chosen something with a bit more meat on its bones was even more confusing.

"So, the accident has been staged, and Baenlin lies dead. Well done!" Vicente said, as soon as I stepped into the room. Before I could so much as say 'hello', he flashed his fangs at me in what was probably supposed to be a friendly smile, and was standing in front of me with a dagger and a bag of septims before I even noticed he'd stood up. "You have more than earned your reward and bonus."

"Um... thanks," I said, pocketing the septims and strapping the dagger to my belt. Vicente being a vampire was still a bit unnerving, but he was just too... friendly for me to genuinely be afraid of him like I was the first time we'd met. I actually managed to smile back at him this time. "Do you have anyone else for me to take care of?"

"As always, you fail to disappoint me. It just so happens that I have another contract available, one that requires an expert in infiltration. Your target is a Dark Elf named Valen Dreth. He thinks he is safe within the walls of the Imperial Prison. He is tragically mistaken."

"Wait a moment," I said, not sure I'd heard him right. "I'm supposed to find a way into the Imperial Prison? The same prison that no one's broken out of in over forty years?" Well, less than forty days was probably a more accurate count after the Mythic Dawn business that had started all this madness, but I wasn't sure that counted. I hadn't escaped so much as wandered out. If it weren't for the emperor's secret passage, I'd have still been in my cell. Or dead.

"You underestimate yourself, dear brother. A prisoner recently escaped from the prison, using a set of secret tunnels connected to the Imperial City's sewer system. It's a perfect way inside. Just outside of the Imperial Prison is a grating that leads to the sewers. It has recently been tightly locked, but I will provide a key. It should be easy enough to locate Dreth in his small cell. Besides, I think you know the way, hmm?" Vicente paired the question with a chuckle and a knowing look.

"So you know about that... Could've just said so in the first place and saved me the trouble of making a fool of myself."

"Ah, but that wouldn't have been nearly as fun, now would it? For me, anyway. Valen Dreth has been imprisoned for many years. His tongue is sharp, but his body is limp and frail. He will provide an easy, pleasurable kill. You will receive a bonus if you fulfill the contract without killing any of the prison guards. Now go, and may the Night Mother go with you."

"I'll get right on that, then. Though I'm not sure I agree with you on the sharp-tongued bit. Plenty of people have come up with worse insults for me." I replied, making my way back to the outside world. Killing Dreth in itself wasn't going to be difficult, but actually getting to that point was going to take some work. The sewers were bad enough when they weren't crawling with guards. I'd find a way, though. If I could make it out of the Imperial Prison armed with nothing but tattered clothing and a borrowed shortsword, there was no reason I couldn't get back in with my current gear.

I thought about looking into the strange door I'd heard about first, but since I'd have to follow the road around the Imperial City to get there, trying to assassinate Dreth on the way there just seemed to make more sense. Besides, if what he'd said about getting out of prison soon the last time we'd spoken was true, I didn't have any time to lose.

It wasn't quite dark yet when I got to the Imperial City, so I stopped by my shack to drop off most of the septims I'd made off my Baenlin contract. I was running out of space under my floorboard, but it was nice to have something put aside for the future. If my contracts kept paying so well, I'd be able to afford some nice wall hangings. Maybe a rug, too, and less splintery furniture - sitting on either of the chairs in front of my fireplace without a sturdy set of pants never ended well. My lock probably needed replacing, too; it stuck so often that picking it was a more reliable way of getting it open than my key.

It took a while to find the sewer grate where everything had started, but once I'd stepped through it and into the sewers I knew exactly where I was going. The way back to my cell was marked with guards carrying torches, and they made enough noise stomping around in their heavy armor for me to get past them without much effort, so long as I kept to the shadows.

Once I was in my cell, all I had to do was wait for Dreth to hurl insults at the guard outside his cell long enough for the guard to abandon his post to get a clear shot at killing him. Letting myself out of my cell and into the prison itself was as simple as opening the door, since no one had bothered to lock it, and then the only thing left between me and Dreth was the door to his cell. I stopped before picking his lock, and just looked at him for a moment. I realized how easily our fates could have been reversed, and, for a heartbeat, I almost felt sorry for him. Then he threw a stale hunk of bread at me through the bars, and I realized it was probably a miracle no one had called the Dark Brotherhood on his behalf sooner.

"What happened to getting out of here soon?" I asked, brushing as many bread crumbs off my armor as I could.

"Wait, I know you... You... you're the one! That day the Emperor was killed! They went through your cell! You lucky bastard! But... you came back? Come on, you've got to help me! Let old Valen out of this cell! You've got your freedom, now give me mine! What do you say, huh? Come on, friend!" Dreth pleaded, grinning like he'd bet on a winning combatant in the Arena when I went to work on getting his lock open.

Once the final tumbler fell into place, I stood and opened his door. Dreth kept smiling at me until I unsheathed my dagger and got him backed into a corner. He wouldn't hold still long enough for me to get his throat slit right on my first try, and we were both covered in his blood by the time he finished bleeding out. By the time I'd made it back through the sewers and out into the Waterfront, the blood had gone all dry and sticky, and by the time I got it all scrubbed off of myself I felt more like I'd scraped off my own skin. I needed to find a cleaner way to carry out assassinations when I couldn't catch my target sleeping.


	7. Blood of the Daedra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Shivering Isles questline is beyond glossed over here, because, while it is awesome, writing it out in full would have completely killed the pacing of this fanfic, and wouldn't have contributed much to its overall storyline. And as far as the creation of Daedric artifacts goes, I have no idea how it's actually supposed to work, but this seemed like the most Remy-esque way of doing things. As far as revisions go, the only changes of note here were fixing up a few clunky bits of dialogue.

After a trip home for a nice, long nap, I figured it was as good a time as any to have a look at the strange door in the Niben Bay. I got as good a look at myself as I could with my shiniest pewter plate to make sure I really had washed all of Dreth's blood off myself, double checked that I'd put my loose floorboard back into place, and headed out the door. I thought about stopping by the Market District on my way out of the city, at least to find myself a bit of breakfast, but it was barely dawn and I didn't like the thought of standing around for an hour or two waiting for a shop to open. I'd been too late collecting the amulet for Martin already; I didn't want to let him down again just because I was hungry. I was fairly certain I'd be able to grab something out of a farmer's field somewhere down the road, anyway.

A few hours and a stolen watermelon later, I had my horse stabled in Bravil, with a nice bag of septims to pay for whatever it needed while I was away. If the strange door was anything like the Oblivion gate at Kvatch, I'd probably just overpaid a stablehand by around a month's wages, but I liked the thought of losing a few septims better than I liked the thought of coming back to a half-starved horse. I'd put the poor animal through enough already; the least I could do was keep it properly fed and sheltered.

Bravil was full of more sailors and fishermen than a Waterfront brothel, but I couldn't find a single one willing to take me to the door. Or even lend me his boat, throw me a paddle, and point me in the right direction. Still, that door was the best lead I had, so if seeing what was on the other side of it meant swimming around the bay until I found it, I was going to have to live with that. I just hoped it wasn't too far from shore. And that none of Lake Rumare's slaughterfish had decided they wanted a change of scenery. I'd picked up enough scars working for Martin as it was; the last thing I needed was for something to start trying to eat me.

Luckily for me, the door wasn't hard to find. It gave off a bright, purplish light from a twisted little island covered in colorful plants and giant mushrooms that didn't grow in any part of Tamriel I'd ever seen. The fact that it was sitting in the mouth of a giant statue of someone's face instead of a pair of sharp, rocky spikes had me feeling pretty sure it didn't belong to Dagon, at least, though I couldn't have begun to think what Daedric Prince had opened it. All the bright colors on the plants around it seemed friendly enough, though, and I figured I should at least have a look at what the world on the other side of it looked like. If things got out of hand, I could always just leave and wait for someone else to take care of it. I took a deep breath, then took a few steps closer to the door, and had to take just as many steps back when another Dunmer threw himself through it form the other side, screaming like he'd just sat through a performance of The Lusty Argonian Maid.

"It's not right! Madness! Why? Why? Everything is wrong! It can't be done! Stay away from me! I won't go back. I won't go back! You can't make me go back! I'll kill you all! You're all going to die!" he cried, and threw himself at the guard watching over the door. He was a mangled corpse bleeding out on the ground a few moments later.

Watching someone come out of the door like that had me feeling a bit less enthusiastic about going through it myself, so I decided to have a talk with the guard first. Or at least, I tried to, until the door started shouting at me.

"Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy! Useless mortal meat! Walking bag of dung! A nice effort, though. A shame he's dead. These things happen. Bring me a champion! Rend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion to wade through the entrails of my enemies! Really, do come in. It's lovely in the Isles right now. Perfect time for a visit," the door said. The last bit was probably directed at me, unless it thought that the guard would be interested in going through it after the last person it spat out had attacked him.

The door didn't seem friendly, by any stretch of the word, but then again, the door to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary hadn't, either. And even with the shouting, it still sounded less angry than an Oblivion gate would have, if they'd been able to talk. Once the guard put his sword away and stopped looking like he'd stab the next thing that moved, I headed for the door again. It wasn't like I had any better leads on finding Daedric artifacts, anyway. And then I had to stop again when the guard grabbed me by the shoulder and turned me around to face him.

"I'd stay back from that door if I were you. Nothing that's gone in has come out right," he said, shaking his head.

"So, this isn't the first time this has happened?" I asked, nudging the crazy Dunmer's corpse with my foot.

"He wasn't the first, and I doubt he'll be the last."

"I don't suppose you've learned anything about the door while you've been out here, then?"

"I don't know where it came from, and I don't want to. Those who've gone in have come back out... wrong. I'm just here to warn others to stay away. You saw what happens in there; perfectly normal people go in there, and raving lunatics come out!"

"I'm going in," I said, wrenching my arm free. It was probably a terrible idea, and more likely to get me killed or seriously injured more than anything else, but my curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see for myself what had driven so many people insane, no matter what happened. I'd never been "perfectly normal", anyway.

"Ha! It's your funeral. I'm just here to warn people, not keep them out. Go ahead in. I'll be here to clean up the mess when you come out."

I didn't pay any mind to the guard's parting remark, and stepped through the portal before I had a chance to think twice about it. A few weeks later, I stepped back out of it, without knowing much more about it than I had before. If anything, I was even more confused. It turned out that the door was a portal into the Shivering Isles, and after fighting my way through a hulking, patchwork gatekeeper I managed to get myself an appointment with Sheogorath himself. Which went about as well as a meeting with the Daederic Prince of madness can go, I suppose, until I found out that he wanted me to help him save his entire plane of Oblivion from being taken over by Jyggalag's forces of Order instead of carrying out a small task in exchange for a daedric artifact. I didn't quite like the thought of saving a second world when I still hadn't managed to save my own, but angering a Daedric Prince in his own realm had seemed like a very bad idea, so I went along with it, anyway.

To make a long story short, I did manage to stop Jyggalag from conquering the Shivering Isles, but Sheogorath himself got a bit lost in the process. I was still a bit fuzzy on the details of it, myself, but somehow that meant I was the new Sheogorath, and I'd lost any chance of getting a Daedric artifact out of the old one. Except for a Staff of Sheogorath that I'd cobbled together myself, which probably didn't count. Still, at least I had Sheogorath's Chamberlain, Haskill, to keep the Isles running for me while I was away. Which was a good thing, seeing as I didn't have any plans to start being a Daedric Prince, if I even was one, until I was good and ready for it, and that wasn't going to happen any time soon. If it happened at all.

The guard outside the door recognized me, even if he refused to talk to me on principle, so at least I was still an ordinary enough Dunmer on the outside. Once I'd had a good look at my reflection, just to make sure I still looked like me – the last thing I needed was for someone to mistake me for a Daedra and try to kill me or send me back to Oblivion - I headed straight for Cloud Ruler Temple. I hoped that using the actual blood of a Daedric Prince, even if I was one on a technicality, would work just as well in Martin's ritual as an artifact made by one. And that Martin would believe me when I told him where I'd been for the last month or so.

Martin didn't greet me at the door this time, but the way he smiled when he noticed me sitting across from him at his table couldn't have been anything but genuine. What the man still saw in me after I'd lost him the Amulet of Kings, I'd never know. "Well, look who finally decided to come back to us! We were beginning to worry about you," he said. "I take it you've found us an artifact?"

"That depends on how literally that book of yours can be taken…" I replied. When Martin just raised an eyebrow at me, I added, "I think I can be reasonably sure that I'm Sheogorath now. So, will the ritual still work if I just bleed on something?"

"Please tell me this is some sort of joke..."

"I'm afraid not."

"You wouldn't be horribly offended if I requested some form of proof of this, would you?"

"Not at all." I unstrapped the Staff of Sheogorath – or the staff of myself, I supposed, but that was beside the point – from my back and handed it to Martin. "I'd offer to use this in the ritual, but I put it together myself before becoming Sheogorath, so it's not really a Daedric artifact…"

After looking it over and making a failed attempt to use it himself, Martin handed the staff back to me. "It seems real enough, and you don't seem to have had your mind tampered with; for the time being, I see no reason not to believe you. As for whether or not the ritual will work using your blood instead of a proper artifact, I don't see why it wouldn't."

"Wonderful!" I figured it was best to get my blood on something before anything had a chance to go wrong this time, so I grabbed a fork off the table and jabbed it into my arm. It stung a little, but I'd gone through worse, and it didn't take long for me to stop bleeding once I'd pulled it out again. The fork just looked a bit bloody at first, but it started changing color as my blood dried, until the silver it was made of had turned itself pink. Actually accomplishing what I'd set out to do for a change felt better than I have the words to say, and I couldn't resist holding it up and crying, "Behold! The Dessert Fork of Sheogorath!" Even if everyone else in the main hall, including Martin, looked at me like I'd grown a second head afterward. All the other Daedric artifacts seemed to have names, after all. I didn't see why my fork was any different.

"You do realize that there are other ways we could have done this, right?"

"Does this mean the dessert fork isn't going to work? Because I'm pretty sure it qualifies as a Daedric artifact now… It's giving off a lovely pink glow."

Martin sighed, and shook his head. "Its wielder shall never have to fear eating their meals in darkness again."

"Let us take a moment to revel in its awesome power."

We did manage a moment or two of silence, but it turned into a longer moment of laughter as soon as it was over.

"How do you think of these things?" Martin asked, "Most people would have filled some sort of small container with blood and left it at that…"

"Most people also would have run away the moment they saw that Oblivion Gate outside Kvatch; it's probably a good thing I'm not like them. And where's the fun in having a puddle of blood when you could have a glowing fork? If I'm going to create a Daedric artifact, I'm going to create a proper one."

"It seems that Sheogorath chose his champion wisely."

"You know, you're awfully accepting of this Daedra business. Are you sure you're really a priest?"

"I haven't always been a priest. In my youth, I followed a different path. I know more than I want to about the seductive power of daedric magic. Let's just leave it at that."

"That's hardly fair; you know plenty of worse things about me than that. You could at least tell me who you used to worship. It's not like I'm in any position to judge you for it."

"I suppose it is unworthy of me to deny you the same level of trust that you have placed in me. If you must know, I used to be quite a favorite of Sanguine's… a lifetime ago, it seems now. I think you can work out the rest for yourself."

Well, that explained how accepting he was of everything I'd done. So long as he didn't change after he was crowned, maybe Martin actually had a chance of convincing the rest of the world to be a bit more accepting, too. Getting him out of Kvatch alive was definitely worth shutting an Oblivion gate for. "You, my friend, are going to be the best emperor Tamriel has ever seen. Talos would be proud."

"You can stop that, you know. You aren't getting paid to compliment me."

"With all due respect, you're not paying me at all. If I didn't like you, I'd just say so."

"I'll make sure you get some form of compensation when this Oblivion business is over with, I promise."

I shrugged. "I'll believe it when I see it. Either way, everything I do is on a purely voluntary basis. Whether it's slaying fearsome Daedra or complimenting my future emperor."

"Thank you, then… That means a lot."

"Um… right. Glad to hear it. Anyway, here's your Daedric artifact," I said, handing my fork over to Martin. It was probably best to get back to the task at hand before things got too sappy. I'd never done well with sappy things. They were just… too mushy and awkward for my liking.

"Someone is going to be incredibly confused when this decides to pop up again," Martin mused, setting the artifact on his desk.

"Isn't it wonderful? Just imagine the look they'll have on their face…"

"It would be quite the sight."

"So, is there anything else you need me to do?"

"Isn't there always? I still haven't quite finished deciphering what we need for the next part of the ritual, but you should talk to Jauffre. He needs your help. Trouble down in Bruma, I think."

"I'll go and do that, then. Good luck on your deciphering!" I replied, making my way out of the temple and into whatever Jauffre had in store for me.


	8. Fake Deaths and Real Zombies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest changes here are some tweaks to the narrative so that things flow a bit more smoothly and logically, as the original version of this got a bit hard to follow in places.

It turned out that the "trouble in Bruma" Jauffre needed my help with was another Oblivion gate. Never mind that I hadn't seen a single real fight before all this Oblivion business started, or that I'd only survived my first Oblivion gate through blind luck; apparently I was a better man for the job than, say, any of the dozens of highly-trained Blades sitting around Cloud Ruler Temple. And he wanted me to meet up with Burd, Bruma's captain of the guard, at that exact moment. Which would have been fine, any other day, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a proper meal or a full night's sleep – Sheogorath had not been a patient employer - and I'd hoped to remedy that before trying anything that was likely to get me killed. Still, I didn't want to be remembered as the man who handed the world over to Mehrunes Dagon in exchange for a nap, so off I went. Down the side of a mountain, in the dark, on foot, during a snowstorm.

In spite of the conditions, I made it back to Bruma without falling once, and found a great, flaming Oblivion gate that matched the one I'd seen at Kvatch sitting just outside its walls. A cluster of guards seemed to have the Daedra streaming out of it under control, though judging by the corpses surrounding the gate, they were a few men short of the number they'd started with. While I tried to figure out the best way to get their attention without getting myself attacked by accident, a middle-aged Nord caught sight of me, broke off from the rest of the group, and trotted over to me. He introduced himself as the Captain Burd I was looking for, and before I could so much as say 'hello' he'd dragged me and two other guards through the gate and into Oblivion.

As I stepped through the gate, a blast of cold, dry, burnt-smelling air that seemed to be trying its best to choke the life out of me blew over to greet me. Closing an Oblivion gate wasn't going to be any easier the second time around… Now that I had to drag three guards along with me, all of which had sets of heavy, noisy armor that meant I didn't have much chance of running or sneaking my way through, it was probably going to be even harder. If I'd learned anything over the past several weeks, it was that I was suited for melee combat like a slaughterfish was suited for flying, and I was suited for leading people even less. Especially when those people were counting on me to guide them through a ridiculously dangerous task that I'd barely survived the first time. They'd even had to go and make things all awkward by calling me the 'Hero of Kvatch' for some reason. It was almost enough to make me wish I'd sold the thrice-damned Amulet of Kings and run like made when I'd had the chance. That was hardly the time for dwelling on the past, though, so I led the way as best I could and tried to look like I knew what I was doing.

Several maulings, burnings, and two dead guards later, Captain Burd and I stood at the top of the gate's Sigillum Sanguis, bloody and beaten, but still breathing. I didn't waste any time before plucking the sigil stone out of its place and getting us transported back to Tamriel, where at least the guards we'd left behind were still standing. After Burd thanked me for lending a hand and assured me that he and his men could handle any other Oblivion gates that opened up, all I could manage was a weary nod before dragging myself back up to Cloud Ruler Temple. Once I'd let Jauffre know that the gate was shut, I let myself into the main hall, looking for some food, a nap, and a decent healer. Not necessarily in that order.

That plan went out the window when Martin called me over as soon as I'd shut the door behind me. I tried not to look too put out as I flopped down in the seat across from him. He might have just wanted to thank me for closing the Obllivion gate, after all. There wasn't any sense in worrying over work I hadn't been given yet.

"Now that Jauffre's finished with you, I have some good news," Martin said, looking quite pleased with himself. "I've made some progress in deciphering the gate-opening ritual."

"That's great..." I tried to force a smile onto my face, though I'd have bet every septim I had that whatever Martin had found would result in me having to do something life-threatening. Everything else had so far. "What's next on our list?"

"The second item is the counterpart to the first: the blood of a Divine. This was a terrible puzzle to me. Unlike the Daedra Lords, the gods have no artifacts, and do not physically manifest themselves in our world. How then to obtain the blood of a god? But Jauffre solved it. The blood of Tiber Septim himself, who became one of the Divines. This is a secret remembered only by the Blades, passed down from one Grandmaster to the next. Jauffre should tell you himself."

"Got it. I'll get… right on that…" I mumbled. It felt like I was trying to talk through a mouthful of cotton, and the room had started going in and out of focus for some reason. I shook my head to try and clear my vision enough for Martin's face to look like him instead of a fleshy blob, but it just made everything worse. Before I knew what was happening, the room started to spin. I couldn't hold onto my chair, and the last thing I remember before everything went dark is the floor rising up to meet me.

I woke up next to the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket that was too soft and clean to be mine. I sat up, trying to figure out what had happened, and once I'd worked my way free of the blanket I realized that I was wearing a layer of bandages instead of my armor. After a quick look around the room, I found my armor sitting in a neat little pile on a nearby bench, along with Martin.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking at me the same way my mother had when I'd nearly broken my arm falling out of a tree as a child: worried, but like he'd throttle me if I did it again.

"I'm fine. What happened?"

"You lost consciousness while we were discussing the next item we need to access Camoran's Paradise. I apologize; I should have realized you were in no condition to discuss such things."

I shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I just needed a bit of a rest, that's all."

"And half the healing potions and bandages in the temple. Why didn't you get yourself healed before coming all the way up here? What would have happened if you'd passed out on the road instead of in the main hall? You need to start taking better care of yourself; we'd be lost without you."

"I guess I just wasn't thinking about it… And I'm not that important. I just got lucky and managed to close a couple Oblivion gates. Anyone could have done it, really. It's just that no one else has been stupid enough to try. Don't know why they started all this 'Hero of Kvatch' business, either. The city was already destroyed by the time I got there; all I did was clear a few Daedra out of the rubble."

"That may be the case, but until someone else manages to close an Oblivion gate, we can't afford to lose you." Martin paused for a moment, then gave me a crooked little smile, like he'd just thought of something funny. "More importantly, who else would put up with the ridiculous amount of work we saddle you with? You've gone far above and beyond your duties as a messenger, my friend."

"Anything for my favorite emperor. So, am I ready to find that armor now, or do I need to stay put and heal for a while longer?" I asked, tugging at the end of a bandage around my chest.

"You're free to go whenever you want, so long as you keep yourself properly healed and rested from now on. I'll continue my study of the Mysterium Xarxes while you're away."

I didn't lose any time in putting my armor back on and finding Jauffre again. He crushed my last hope of carrying out a simple, safe task when he told me that the armor of Tiber Septim was stashed away deep in the catacombs of Sancre Tor, which had claimed the life of every last Blade that had gone into them over the years. All of which would have been much better prepared to face whatever was haunting the place than I was. Honestly, I hardly saw the point in trying; Jauffre had outright told me I'd probably die in there. Apparently the Divines really, really, hated me. Not that that had stopped them from choosing me, of all people, to help Martin sort out this Oblivion mess, of course. Then again, if I really had become a Daedric Prince, they may not have had control of me, or what I did, anymore. Granted, even the prospect of dying in Sancre Tor wasn'tenough to make me abandon Martin and his quests, but it was still comforting to think that I could if I wanted to. If I was going to die, I'd be doing it on my own terms.

At least Jauffre had also asked me to try and convince the leaders of Cyrodiil's other cities to send aid to Bruma in case more Oblivion gates opened up, so I had an excuse to avoid going after the armor right away. It probably meant I was a cowardly milk drinker, but I just didn't feel ready to go charging into sealed and, more than likely, haunted ruins in search of a set of armor that might not actually work as part of the ritual. Of course, begging for soldiers in a few cities probably wouldn't make me feel any more ready, but it would give me a chance to replenish my supply of potions and make up for all the sleep I'd lost. Cheydinhal seemed like as good a place as any to start, and I still needed to pick up my reward for the Dreth contract, so I figured I'd stop by there first.

My attempt at collecting reinforcements for Bruma fell through when I found out that I'd need to close another Oblivion gate first, which I wouldn't have been able to do if I'd wanted to, at that point. I'd just need to come back for it another time. With that taken care of, I made my way to the sanctuary, hoping that Vicente wouldn't be too upset with me for disappearing for so long. At least I'd fulfilled my contract first, so I hadn't left any clients waiting. That had to count for something.

"So, our prodigal brother finally returns," Vicente said as soon as I'd entered his quarters. As usual, he'd figured out who I was without so much as turning around; it must have been some kind of vampire power. "We were beginning to worry we'd lost a family member."

"Sorry about that… I had some things come up. Outside the family. It won't happen again."

"There's no need to apologize, dear brother. So long as you complete your contracts in a timely fashion, the Dark Brotherhood has no rule against waiting before you accept another. And I seem to recall that, before you vanished, you successfully infiltrated the Imperial Prison, and eliminated Valen Dreth, without killing a single guard. Excellent work," Vicente replied. After a few moments of rummaging through his cupboard, he handed me a good-sized bag of septims and an enchanted set of scales. Once I'd gotten them safely put away in my pack, he asked, "Would I be correct in assuming you're ready for your next contract?"

"As long as it doesn't involve sewers. Or anything else involving slimy substances of questionable origin. I don't care how much I'm getting paid; I'd like to keep my feet dry for a change."

"That shouldn't be an issue." Vicente smiled in that familiar, unnerving way only he could. Anything else would've just looked out of place on him, really. "I have a special contract that needs fulfillment. In truth, I don't wish to offer it to any other family member. You have demonstrated quite an aptitude for assassination since joining us; I feel it would be a fitting test of your abilities. We're usually called upon to take a life, but not this time. This contract requires us to stage the assassination of a marked man."

"So… my job is to not kill someone?"

"Precisely. You must go to the city of Chorrol and break into the house of Francois Motierre. Inside you will find Motierre waiting for you. Do not kill him! You see, Francois Motierre is a marked man. He owes a considerable sum to the wrong kind of people. So, they have sent an enforcer to kill him. Here. You will use this specially poisoned knife to stage Motierre's death, in the enforcer's presence. Motierre himself will provide more details. This is an unusual contract; Motierre had to make a special arrangement with us before it was approved. I trust in your professionalism."

"All right, then. If you're sure I'm the right person for the job…" I replied, taking the knife from Vicente. I'd have felt a bit better about things if I hadn't been unsure of whether I was meant to see getting sent on the contract as a compliment, or just a polite way of saying that I wasn't as good at killing things as I should've been. "If you don't mind me asking, how did he manage to get this approved?"

"The Dark Brotherhood is not in the business of staging deaths, no matter how much gold is offered. Sithis demands blood, and blood must be paid. In order to accept the contract, we demanded a life. Motierre offered his mother, and we accepted. Lucien has already taken care of that… detail."

I couldn't stop myself from perking up when I heard Lucien's name, though, fortunately for what little dignity I had left, Vicente either didn't notice or was nice enough not to say anything about it. I'd assumed that Lucien had written me off as a lunatic and lost any interest he might have had in me after our last conversation. Not that I blamed him of course; I probably wouldn't have believed my story, either, if it had happened to someone else. Still, if Lucien thought the contract was important enough to get involved in it himself, it must have been important. And if he trusted me to carry out the rest of it, it had to mean that he at least had faith in me as an assassin. Which, considering his less than impressed reaction to the way I'd carried out my first contract, meant that he'd been following my progress since then and approved of the rest of my work. Maybe I still had a chance at winning him over, after all.

After spending the night at the sanctuary, I got myself to Chorrol, and Motierre's house, as fast as I could. It took a few awkward moments of fumbling with his lock to get myself inside, and once I'd shut the door behind me, a man that I hoped was Motierre was hovering over me and fussing over the terms of his contract like a mother hen. My job seemed simple enough: wait for the enforcer to show up, cut Motierre with the poisoned knife, run like mad so I didn't get killed by the enforcer, and sneak into the chapel undercroft to revive Motierre the next day. Then again, I probably should've known better than to expect things to go that smoothly for me, by that point.

Everything started off well enough, even if Motierre made it sound like I was there to bed him instead of kill him when the enforcer finally showed up. I managed to keep myself from laughing long enough to land what I hoped was a fake killing blow on Motierre, and was ready to make my escape when I realized that I had an angry enforcer standing between me and the only door. So, I did what any reasonable person would have done in my position, and ran up the stairs and jumped out a window. My landing wasn't exactly graceful, but I didn't seem to have broken anything, and I'd bought myself enough time to slip out of the city gates before the enforcer could follow me. Light armor definitely had its advantages; there was no way in Oblivion I could've made such a quick getaway in anything heavy.

Seeing as it was still light out, and I had plenty of time to kill before I had a chance to revive Motierre, I made my way up to Chorrol's castle in hopes of collecting a few soldiers to justify my visit to the city, and got the same response that I had in Cheydinhal. The way things were going, I doubted any city would willingly part with any of its guards without me closing an Oblivion gate first, and I couldn't very well return to Cloud Ruler Temple without some form of aid, so into the gate I went. Getting to the sigil stone was easier when I could sneak by most of the Daedra instead of trying to fight them all, and I made it out with only a few scrapes and bruises, and lightly singed hair. And then I found out that the Countess' idea of aid was a grand total of two guards. Still, I supposed it was better than nothing, and it would at least explain where I'd been if anyone started getting suspicious of me.

I spent the night at Motierre's house, and snuck into the chapel undercroft the next morning to see if I could wake him up. The antidote to the poison I'd used worked like a charm, and Motierre was up and walking almost as soon as I'd given it to him. Unfortunately, so were the undead remains of most of his family, due to a curse he'd forgotten to mention during our first meeting. After hacking my way through a few zombies, I got him safely to one of Chorrol's inns, the Gray Mare, before I 'forgot' my orders not to kill him for real, and we parted ways. Vicente hadn't said anything about not looting Motierre's house, though, and I seemed to recall him having a rather nice wine cellar that was now unattended…

\----------

It seemed that I had greatly underestimated the potential of my newest recruit. While the Dunmer was as graceful and menacing as the average mudcrab, he did possess a certain level of skill as an assassin, and I had never been one to argue with results. I'd felt a degree of skepticism at Vicente's decision to send Remy, of all people, on a mission as delicate as the Motierre contract, but the end result was satisfactory enough. The Dunmer had proven to be a passably convincing actor, and was quite masterful at avoiding capture, if nothing else. There was also his rather convenient position as the emperor's errand boy to consider. It would remove him from most people's list of suspects for any murder he committed, and provide him with an alibi to satisfy those that did suspect him; he was all but untouchable.

If things continued to progress at their current rate, Remy's potential for advancement within the Dark Brotherhood was all but limitless. And that potential, coupled with his obvious attraction to me, was something only a fool would not use to his advantage. At best, I could have a fellow Speaker under my control, given enough time, and at worst I'd simply have another name to add to my list of conquests. Either way, I won. Which is why I'd made myself comfortable in Motierre's house, waiting for Remy's inevitable return for the numerous valuables the man had left behind. I couldn't have him thinking I'd forgotten about him, after all…


	9. The World Can Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter underwent some serious changes from its original version, as I felt like a lot of the interactions in it just didn't work very well, so quite a few parts of it ended up looking nothing like they did originally. And converting this into first-person POV, while remaining within Remy's somewhat limited vocabulary, was an interesting experience, to say the least, so I'm hoping that turned out all right.

The sun had set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, when I let myself into Motierre's house for what I hoped was the last time. It seemed like a nice enough place, but it was too big to be comfortable, and I didn't like the way the furniture cast long, twisty shadows over everything in the fading light. I couldn't imagine anyone actually living there on his own. All that empty quiet had to get maddening after a while.

I stepped over the small bloodstain Motierre had left on the floor and made my way down the short flight of stairs to the wine cellar. Most of the bottles had labels on them, saying where they'd come from and what year they'd been made, and I suppose I should have cared more than I did, but all I cared about in that moment was how many I could fit into my pack without it bursting at the seams. I'd never seen the point in fussing over labels, and I didn't see any point in changing that just because I'd come into a bit more coin than usual.

Before I'd gotten my pack halfway full, something grabbed me and shoved me up against a wall. I let out a squeak that wouldn't have sounded threatening coming from a newborn kitten, let alone a grown man, as my back hit the hard, unyielding stone, and I reached out to try and grab something, anything, on my attacker that I could use to get them off me. Not that I'd have had much of a chance at fighting off the enforcer I'd cheated if he'd come back for revenge, but I wasn't going to just flop back and let myself die. If I managed to get myself free, I'd have a chance at running away again, and if I could make it back to the sanctuary I was sure that Vicente would have some way of getting rid of him. When I caught hold of a familiar set of robes instead of the enforcer's armor, though, running away was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Would it kill you to just say 'hello', like a normal person, instead of trying to scare the life out of me?" I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn't stop myself from grinning like an idiot when Lucien dropped the spell he'd been using to keep himself invisible. "I don't bite, you know. Unless you're into that sort of thing. And even then, I try not to draw blood."

"I suppose I could…" Lucien purred, apparently quite happy to keep me pinned to the wall for the time being. Which, if things were going the way I thought – hoped, really - they were going, was fine by me. "But I don't think it would be nearly as fun. Start paying better attention to your surroundings, and this won't be a problem in the future."

"Don't tell me you just stopped by to scold me again… That would completely ruin my day."

"Actually, my intention was to do quite the opposite. I am pleased with the rate at which your skills have improved, and I would like to offer you a reward. If you're interested, that is."

"What exactly is this reward of yours? I don't know you well enough to guess, and I'd rather not make things awkward by jumping to conclusions."

"I'm sure you can figure it out on your own…" Lucien replied, pressing his body up against mine and running his tongue up the side of my ear.

A shiver of pleasure ran down my spine, and I could feel myself blushing violet as my hands tightened their hold on his robes, like they had a mind of their own. I sighed, though even I wasn't sure whether it was in contentment over what he'd done or disappointment that he'd stopped, as he pulled away from me. Saving the world was all good and well, but I'd gone far too long without a chance to enjoy someone else's company quite like this. And it had been longer still since I'd had a chance to do it purely for my own benefit. I could feel the tension melting away already. Still, as much as I wanted to go along with whatever Lucien had in mind, I forced myself to let go of his robes and wriggle out of his hold on me. "I'd love to take you up on that offer, really, but this probably isn't the best time… This has not been a good day for me, and I don't plan on doing anything until I've had a drink and washed the zombie bits out of my hair."

"I can't say I blame you; you look like death warmed over. And I'm afraid you don't smell much better."

"Well, that was romantic."

"As was your rejecting me in favor of wine and a bath."

"Point taken… Though I don't recall saying you weren't welcome to join me. Or that I wasn't interested in picking up where we left off afterwards. Things should be a bit nicer for both of us that way."

Lucien smirked, and rubbed the tip of my ear between his thumb and forefinger. "Go and wash yourself, then, and we'll see where things go from there."

I didn't need to be told twice. As soon as he'd let go of my ear, I ran upstairs to Motierre's living quarters, and the bathtub I'd seen there before jumping out the window on my last visit. After giving myself the most thorough wash I'd had in weeks, I went looking for something to dress myself in. Putting my armor back on would have felt a bit ridiculous, but so would wandering back downstairs completely naked. When I caught sight of myself in a mirror, I hardly recognized my own body.

From the shoulders down, I looked like a battle-scarred warrior. Where I'd used to have smooth, blue skin, it looked like someone had painted a series of jagged, pale pink lines all across my arms and chest. A few still had stitches in them, probably from when Martin had tended to me back at Cloud Ruler Temple. The planes of Oblivion had not done my appearance any favors. If I lived long enough, the scars would probably fade with time, but I doubted I'd ever be fully rid of some of the larger ones. After taking a good, long look at my face, I smiled to myself. At least the Daedra had left that alone, so far. I'd just have to be careful to make sure it stayed that way.

Once I'd pulled myself away from the mirror, I borrowed a shirt and pair of pants from Motierre's wardrobe and made my way back downstairs, where I found Lucien waiting for me at a table, with an open bottle of wine, the fancy-label kind with the year it was made on it, and two silver goblets. I sat myself down in the chair across from him, and once he'd filled his own goblet I took the rest of the bottle for myself.

"How badly did things go for you today?" Lucien asked, watching me like a mildly amused cat as I gulped down the rest of the bottle of wine.

"It's been more of a bad month, really."

"Yes, I do recall Vicente mentioning you taking much longer than usual to collect your payment for the Dreth contract… Would you care to explain what, exactly, happened?"

"Well, I needed a Daedric artifact for my world-saving hobby, so I decided I'd take a look at that door that opened up in the Niben Bay a while back. A few weeks of madly running about the Shivering Isles later, and I'm technically Sheogorath. So I made my own artifact by stabbing myself with a fork, closed an Oblivion gate, passed out, got sent on a quest to get some armor out of a tomb that no one's come out of alive in years, decided to get some more guards sent to Bruma and carry out a contract or two instead, came here, recued Motierre, closed another Oblivion gate, fought off a whole family of zombies he 'forgot' to tell me about, and then I figured I'd help myself to his wine collection and be on my way. That's about it, really."

"You honestly expect me to believe that you managed to close three Oblivion gates on your own?"

"Well, I had help from some guards on one of them, but most of them died about halfway through. …The Oblivion gates are really the part you're having trouble believing?"

"They would certainly be the easiest part to lie about; anyone capable of carrying out so many contracts without incident would be able to invent a more feasible story than becoming a Daedric Prince to explain why they'd vanished for so long. And I doubt that anyone who's had a conversation with you would have difficulty believing that you're Sheogorath."

"I don't usually sound this insane, I swear." I sighed, and set my empty wine bottle on the table. "My life's just gone a bit strange, lately. It's not like I asked for any of this."

"Most people would be happy to have the opportunities you've been presented with, you know. It isn't every day a man gets a chance to be hailed as a hero by the people of Tamriel."

"Don't remind me… It's all too much responsibility for me. People are calling me the 'Hero of Kvatch' now, and I've probably got an equally ridiculous title in the Shivering Isles. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss being a prostitute. At least I never had any problems living up to people's expectations then."

"You were really that good?" Lucien asked, raising an eyebrow at me as he drained the contents of his goblet.

"Well, I like to think I still am that good, but yes. Most of my customers seemed quite happy with me, at least. That's got to count for something. You're not doubting my abilities, are you?"

"Not at all, my dear Dunmer… Not at all."

Before I knew what was happening, I was out of my chair and pinned against the wall again, with Lucien pressed up against me. He had the same sweet, flower-and-herb smell as the day I'd met him, and I breathed as much of it in as I could as our lips met. I leaned back against the wall when he slipped his tongue into my mouth, pulling his hood back as I ran my tongue along his in encouragement. He had longer hair than I'd expected, and I had to work his hair tie loose before I could run my fingers through its dark brown strands like I wanted. Lucien groaned in what I hoped was pleasure at that, pulling away from me far sooner than I would have liked.

"Not bad," he purred, winding a strand of my hair around his finger.

"I told you so. Now get back to what you were doing before I decide you need to pay for this. And I am not cheap."

"So impatient…"

"It's been a while. You'd feel the same if-" I lost the rest of whatever I'd planned to say when Lucien kissed me a second time, and when he gave that up in favor of nipping at the tip of my ear, I wasn't sure why I'd wanted to bother with talking in the first place.

"Perhaps we should relocate to somewhere a bit more comfortable?" Lucien asked. I dragged my thoughts together well enough to manage a nod, and he took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

The bed looked like it belonged in an expensive inn more than someone's house, and its blanket felt soft under my hands as I sat on its edge. I thought about folding it up and taking it home with me to replace my old, scratchy one, until Lucien sat down beside me with his robes off and his shirt half-open, and I remembered that I had better things to think about than blankets. It didn't take me long to get the rest of his clothing off after that, and once I'd finished slipping out of mine, he had me pressed into the mattress beneath him before I could blink. I knew I probably should have been out closing Oblivion gates instead of wrapping myself around Lucien, but it all felt too good, too right,for me to want to do anything but lay back and enjoy it while it lasted. The world could wait a few more hours.

I was the first to wake up the next morning. It took some doing, but I managed to pull myself away from Lucien and get myself off the bed without waking him up, and went to collect my armor. After getting stuck in it the first time, I hadn't had any problems getting in and out of my Dark Brotherhood armor since, though it still took me longer than I would have liked to get all the ties and buckles holding it together fastened right. Unless I was going to Cloud Ruler Temple, I'd started just putting the tabard from my Kvatch cuirass on over it when I was on the road or passing through a city. It probably looked a bit strange, but as long as I kept it belted, it covered any symbols that could link me to the Dark Brotherhood, and it was easier than changing into a whole new set of armor all the time.

Once I'd finished getting myself dressed, I tried to sneak out of the house before Lucien woke up; there wouldn't be any awkward conversations about where our relationship, if that was even the right word for it, was going, that way. It wasn't that he was a bad lover – if anything, he was probably the best lay I'd had – and I wouldn't have said 'no' to a bit more fun with him in the future, but with the way my life was going, I didn't have the time to commit to anything more than that. Even if I did, I didn't have the first idea what had caused Lucien's sudden attraction to me, and I'd have been a fool to think he hadn't planned to get something out of it for himself. Sticking to casual sex seemed like my safest bet for the time being.

And then I tripped over a table leg on my way to the stairs, which toppled a stack of thick, heavy books onto me and the floor. The noise was more than enough to wake Lucien up, and after a moment or two of trying to figure out what had caused it, he gave me that amused-cat look again when he saw me sprawled out on the floor.

"This is an interesting change… Usually, I'm the one quietly slipping away in the morning. Of course, my attempts are generally more successful than this," he said, gesturing to the pile of books scattered around me. "If you're that opposed to doing this again, all you needed to do was say so."

"That's not what I meant by this." I stood up and dusted myself off, trying to get at least some of the dignity those damned books had cost me back. "I'd like to do this again, if we can. I'd more than like it, really."

"As would I… so long as you don't make a habit of trying to scare me to death in the mornings."

"I think I can manage that. But… if you don't mind, I'd rather keep things on a physical level for now."

Lucien got out of bed, and started working his way back into his own clothing. "We seem to be on the same page, then. Good. Getting overly sentimental is… inadvisable, in our line of work."

"Well, that went better than expected… Since we'll be doing this again, is there any chance of you replacing that healing potion? They aren't cheap, you know."

"It isn't my fault you didn't have anything else we could use to prepare you with. Though I suppose I could give you one when next we meet."

"Thank you," I replied. Granted, it hadn't been my fault, either, but I'd never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'd just have to get my next contract or two done as soon as possible.

"On the subject of healing, you should really consider getting those scars of yours looked at. If you continue exerting yourself at this rate, you'll put yourself at risk of a severe infection, and I'd prefer to not have to find a replacement for you," Lucien said, pulling his hood over his head as he made his way to the top of the stairs. Without knocking anything over. "I'm afraid the time has come for us to part ways once more. Goodbye, for now."

"Goodbye." I watched as he turned himself invisible, like he always did. I knew I was alone again when I heard the front door open and shut itself behind him. All in all, things had gone fairly well, and I looked forward to the next time he decided to check in on me. Yes, he was a bit uppity and over-dramatic, but it was nice to have someone who didn't expect me to be perfect. Or even good, for that matter. No matter how many worlds I saved. I got the rest of my things, and the soft, fancy blanket, together without any more trouble, and after stopping by my house to drop my new blanket and wine stash off, I set off for Cheydinhal to collect my payment for the Motierre contract.


	10. Killing Mushrooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main change I made to this chapter was a bit of cleaning up on the characterization, and trimming off a bit of fluff that didn't actually go anywhere. Also, I made a slight change to a Dark Brotherhood quest reward here, for the continuity purposes of this particular fanfic. I am aware that things are different in the actual game.

No one had gotten around to closing the Oblivion gate outside Cheydinhal, but at least it didn't seem to have gotten any worse. I decided to leave it alone. Yes, getting the damn thing closed was important, but so was keeping myself alive, and I didn't feel up to shutting it myself right then. And getting myself killed trying to close an Oblivion gate I didn't feel up to closing wouldn't have been much help to anyone. I wouldn't have any real use as a corpse. Or as whatever I'd turn into when I died. If I could die at all. Not that I wanted to test that, of course. I'd have to see if there was some sort of guide to being a Daedric Prince I could read next time I was in the Shivering Isles. Still, whether I could die or not, the Oblivion gate was staying open for a while longer.

Once I made it through the city gates, my feet carried me down the path to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary like I'd been walking it all my life. When I stepped into the abandoned house and let its familiar, creaky door swing shut behind me without a second thought, I realized just how involved in the Dark Brotherhood I'd become. I'd thought it would take me years to get comfortable with the thought of murdering strangers for a bit of extra coin, if I ever managed it at all, but there I was, walking into the sanctuary to pick up my next contract without a single speck of guilt on my conscience. It all seemed so normal after a couple of short months. By the Nine, I'd only carried out five official contracts in that time; how was that anywhere near enough to do something like that to me?

I only had two words that made any sense as an answer to that: Lucien Lachance. I'd tossed out what little morality I had left in me in exchange for one night with a man I knew next to nothing about, all because of an infatuation with him I couldn't begin to understand. If it weren't for him, I could have… no. If I was being honest with myself, Lucien hadn't changed anything about me. He'd just brought out something in me that had been hiding until I killed that first Mythic Dawn agent. All he'd done was give me a knife and a few words of encouragement. I did the rest all on my own. For some reason, that bothered me more than thinking I'd really done everything for the sake of a good lay.

I stopped outside Vicente's door. If I wanted to leave the Brotherhood, now was the time. I'd saved up quite a few septims from my contracts, and I'd gotten what I wanted from Lucien. I'd finished up the Motierre contract, so I wouldn't be abandoning any contracts if I left; I could just walk away, try to live a good life, and pretend none of this had ever happened. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn't want to. Killing was what I did now, whether it was for Martin or the Dark Brotherhood. And it's not like it had changed me much.

Yes, I'd murdered people, but none of them had been anywhere near innocent. Most of them had deserved it, really. And it wasn't like a few assassinations made the Oblivion gates I'd shut any less closed, or the Daedra and Mythic Dawn members I'd killed any less dead. I'd done plenty of good over the past couple months, too. As far as I knew, my personality hadn't changed, either. I hadn't transformed into some kind of cruel, inhuman monster because of a few murders. I still hated dark, cramped spaces, undead things that weren't Vicente still made my skin crawl, and my fear of commitment remained alive and well. I'd just gotten a bit better at sneaking about and wearing impossibly tight leather armor. The Dark Brotherhood made me happy; I didn't see any sense in denying myself that just because I didn't feel as guilty as I thought I should have. I was staying in it, whether it made me a bad person or not.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding in and let myself into Vicente's room. He was waiting for me, as usual, though his expression had changed. I hoped it didn't mean I'd done something wrong.

"Motierre was alive and well the last time I saw him, and if the enforcer died before I could tell anyone I stole his kill, it wasn't my fault," I said, sitting myself down on Vicente's stone bed. It didn't feel any more comfortable than it looked, and I regretted not using a chair instead almost as soon as I'd done it. How he managed to sleep on that thing was beyond me; it must've been a vampire thing.

"Ah, so Motierre has escaped? Well done!" Vicente handed me my payment. The bag of septims and enchanted bow weren't anything out of the ordinary, but I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with the key he gave me. "The well outside the house is a secret entrance to our sanctuary. I am glad to say you are now allowed access to it."

"Thank you." So that's what the key was for. A secret entrance sounded much more appealing than having to feel my way around a dark basement every time I came back to the sanctuary, and having an actual key for it made me feel… official, somehow. Like I was part of a family again. If Vicente's skin hadn't been ice cold, and his fangs had been a little less sharp, I might have hugged him. "So, what's my next contract?" I asked. I knew I really should have been exploring Sancre Tor, looking for Tiber Septim's armor, by now, but I just couldn't bring myself to dive into another dark, undead-infested hole so soon after my adventure in Motierre's family tomb.

"Well now, you are an ambitious one, aren't you? I'm afraid I have no more contracts for you. Our time working together has come to an end. Instead, you must report to Ocheeva, here in the sanctuary. She will be providing your contracts, now."

"Oh… If you don't mind me asking, what exactly does that mean?"

"It means that you are ready to take on contracts more difficult than the ones I give out." Vicente chuckled. "You are not in any trouble, I assure you. Before you go, however, I wish to extend an offer to you. As a vampire, I may pass my gift on to others as I see fit. You have served me well, and, should you desire it, I choose now to extend that gift to you. Shall I use my dark powers and turn you into a vampire? You may find that it complements the lifestyle of an assassin such as yourself quite well."

I wasn't so sure I wanted to hug him anymore. And the Dark Brotherhood didn't quite feel enough like a family for me to give up having a pulse for it. "Um, it-it's a nice offer, really, but… I don't think I could accept it. I like the sun too much, and I'd probably cut myself on the fangs…"

"Yes, I can understand your trepidation. For it is not every day one is invited to join the ranks of the undead, eh? If you ever change your mind, fear not. My offer will always be open."

"Thank you… I think I'll be going, now."

After an awkward scramble back to the sanctuary's main chamber, I went looking for Ocheeva. Even after the vampirism offer, I felt a bit sad at the thought of not going to him for my contracts anymore. His unnerving smile and sharp fangs had gone from being frightening to almost comforting in the time I'd known him. Still, even if she wasn't half as familiar to me as Vicente, at least Ocheeva never made friendly offers to bite me. And she'd probably be just as comforting after a contract or two.

I found her in her room, sitting at her desk and writing something. When I knocked on her doorframe, she looked up and gave me a smile that somehow felt warmer than any I'd seen on people with lips. "Ah, greetings, I have been waiting for you. As Vicente surely told you, your time working with him has come to an end. From now on, you will receive all assignments directly from me," she said. "In fact, your next contract is available now. In the Imperial City there lives a High Elf who must be removed from existence. Finding this person may prove… challenging. Are you interested?"

"Of course."

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Your target is a High Elf named Faelian. He lives somewhere in the Imperial City, and fancies long walks. Unfortunately, that's all we know. We don't know which district he calls home, which establishments he frequents, or anything about his schedule. This contract will require a bit of detective work."

"I'll see what I can do. Any special requests I need to know about?"

"Ah, yes. There is one more thing. The Imperial City is home to an Imperial Legion captain named Adamus Phillida. Do you know who that is?"

"Of course I do. We knew each other on a first-name basis for a while," I said. When Ocheeva looked at me like I'd grown a second head, I realized I probably should have specified how I knew him first. At least she waited for me to explain, instead of accusing me of betraying the Dark Brotherhood straight away. That would've been awkward. "I was working as a prostitute in a section of the city he passed through on his patrol route for a while. We got fairly well-acquainted after a while. And not in the fun way; he wasn't interested in taking… bribes to look the other way. The man takes his job too seriously for his own good."

Ocheeva's face softened. "Quite. He has dedicated his life to eradicating the Dark Brotherhood, and doesn't appreciate when we operate within the Imperial City. When that happens, he tends to make our lives… uncomfortable. Let's not give the good captain any reason to go poking around in our affairs, hmm? If possible, do away with Faelian someplace out of the way. Definitely indoors, with no other people around. A secure location, with no witnesses. This will make it look like a simple murder, Phillida will be none the wiser, and you'll receive a nice bonus. Now go, and may Sithis go with you."

"May Sithis go with you, too," I said, making my way back into the sanctuary. After a good night's rest, I decided to get an early start on my trip to the Imperial City. If Ocheeva didn't know much more than Faelian's name, I didn't think that anyone else in the sanctuary could've given me anything more to go on. Asking them would probably have just been a waste of all of our time. Besides, I knew a few beggars in the Imperial City; odds were, at least one of them could point me in the right direction. At that point, my journey to Sancre Tor was definitely behind schedule, but I didn't see the harm in delaying it until I'd completed my latest contract. It would give me a chance to ask for aid straight from the Elder Council, and if I could manage that I probably wouldn't need to bother with collecting a guard or two from Cyrodiil's other cities, which would save me time in the long run.

After a bit of asking around, and several small "donations", I found out that Faelian had apparently tried to buy Skooma off of more than one Waterfront beggar. With a woman's jewelry. None had been stupid enough to accept something that was so obviously stolen – or try to sell Skooma with so many guards about, for that matter – but he had tried to convince one that the jewelry was a gift from his lover, Atraena, who he was staying with at the Tiber Septim Hotel. And if anyone knew how he spent the rest of his days, it was probably her.

I found her in the inn's main room, sobbing over a locket with a faded sketch of a man that might have been Faelian. She was beautiful, even with her tear-smudged make-up, and she actually managed a smile and friendly greeting when I sat down next to her. If Faelian was willing to leave a woman like that behind to chase after Skooma, and make her cry so much, he'd been alive too long already. A few kind words and a pat on the shoulder later, she'd told me everything I needed to know. Faelian spent most of his time wandering the city, and when Atraena had decided to follow him a few weeks back, she'd seen him go into an abandoned house in the Elven Gardens District. Trying to find him there the next day seemed like my best bet, so I went back to my house for the night.

I made it back to the Tiber Septim Hotel early enough the next morning to see Faelian leave, and if he noticed me following him to the abandoned house, he didn't say anything about it. Once I'd let myself in after him, all I'd needed to do was sneak up behind him and slit his throat. He didn't even turn around.

No one was around to see me when I left the house, and it was still plenty early for me to visit the Imperial Palace and try to convince the Elder Council to send a few Legionnaires to Bruma. The guards at the doors looked down their noses at me when I walked past them, but they didn't try to keep me out of the palace, and one was nice enough to tell me I'd need to talk to High Chancellor Ocato if I wanted anything done.

I grabbed the sleeve of the first person I saw, an Altmer in a set of red robes. "I'm looking for High Chancellor Ocato. Do you know where he is?"

"You've found him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an empire to run. Submit a complaint to the usual department, and I'm sure someone will take care of it," Ocato said, trying to pull his sleeve out of my hand.

I didn't let go. "I don't have time for a complaint department! I'm with the Blades; Jauffre sent me. It's important."

"From the Blades, did you say?" Ocato stopped struggling, and I let go of his sleeve. "Jauffre sent you? What's this about? Quickly, now."

"We found an heir to the throne, and he's staying at Cloud Ruler Temple in Bruma. I'm here because we need more soldiers if we're going to defend the city and him from whatever the Mythic Dawn decides to throw at us. They've managed to open one Oblivion gate already, and we're not sure how much time we have before they open more."

"This is terrible news. Under normal circumstances, I would dispatch a legion or two to Bruma immediately."

"That's great! I'm sure Jauffre will appreciate it." I didn't know how many people were in a legion, but that sounded good enough to me. It had to be more than two, at least. If I'd known I could've gotten so many soldiers so easily in the first place, I wouldn't have bothered with closing Chorrol's Oblivion gate. "Thank you!"

Ocato held up his hand. "Don't thank me yet. Our circumstances are not normal, are they? I've been pleading for troops for Cyrodiil for weeks, but the generals assure me that the entire Imperial Army is already fully committed. Besides, I'd have a full-scale political crisis on my hands if I tried to pull any troops out of the provinces."

"You'll have a full-scale Oblivion crisis on your hands if Bruma gets destroyed! Are you honestly saying that you can't afford to spare any soldiers to keep our emperor safe? Not even one?"

"I'm sorry, but the cities of Cyrodiil will have to fend for themselves for the time being."

"How can you say that? Is there really nothing you can do?" I asked. I could feel the anger bubbling up in my veins when Ocato didn't say anything. "What kind of leader is too afraid of his own people to protect the last hope they have of getting these Oblivion gates shut for good? Only the worst kind of… Only a milk drinker would sit back and do nothing while the world comes crashing down around him!"

"Please excuse me, I have things to attend to." Ocato sighed, and started walking away from me. "You can leave willingly, or I can call the guards and have them escort you out. It's your choice."

As much as I wanted to keep yelling at him, I didn't think it would have done me any good. And after my last experience with them, I knew there weren't many things less pleasant than being dragged out of a building by the city guards. I let myself out into the palace gardens and started kicking over the mushrooms there instead. When I'd made it about halfway around the palace, I left the mushrooms alone and went through the gate to the Arena district, trying to think of a better way to get my frustration out. Killing mushrooms wasn't much help, and I wouldn't have any more people to go after until I went back to Cheydinhal for my next contract. I had no idea what I was going to say to Martin, or Jauffre, when they asked how my search for aid was going, either. Hopefully they wouldn't think I was too much of a failure… I knew I didn't have much to show for it, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

Then I noticed a poster for the Arena itself, and figured out exactly how I was going to make myself feel better. If it killed me, at least I wouldn't have to explain myself to Martin.


	11. Sticks and Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest changes I made to this chapter were adding more Owyn, and making Oblivion skeletons more like their Skyrim counterparts. The "Blood of the Divines" quest is probably a bit less epic for it, but I just can't see anything that lacks connective tissue as having much in the way of structural integrity.

"I don't know who you are, friend, but you've got about ten seconds to tell me what you're doing in my Bloodworks before I lop your arms off," Owyn, the grumpy-looking Redguard I'd been sent to when I asked to join the Arena, asked.

"I'd like to be a combatant," I said. The less-than friendly welcome didn't bother me. After facing three Oblivion gates' worth of Daedra, people just weren't as scary anymore.

"You what? You want to be a combatant?" Owyn laughed. "Look at you! My granny could beat you, and she's dead!"

"It's the hair, isn't it? I could dye it, if you'd like."

Owyn stopped laughing. "Wait, you're serious, aren't you? What is it with you people? You walk in, want to be combatants, and your entrails end up decorating my Red Room."

"Come on, at least I'll give the other team a good laugh before I die… And who knows? I might surprise you."

"All right. It's your funeral. Welcome to the Arena, you filthy Pit Dog. You're free to fight, so long as you know the rules of competition. Now, let me give you your battle raiment. It's the uniform of all Arena combatants. Do you want a light raiment or a heavy raiment?"

"Light. Don't think I'd be able to move in anything heavy."

"A light raiment, huh? You sure? I figured you for the heavy raiment type. You know, hide behind a skin of steel? Hmph. Okay then, here. Put that on, see if it fits all right," Owyn said, tossing a set of armor from the cabinet behind him at me. "Just let me know when you're ready for a match, and we can get this over with."

I reacted quickly enough to catch the armor before it hit me in the face. I would've said it was impossible if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but Owyn's frown got worse when I managed that, like I'd disappointed him. A dark, empty corner gave me enough privacy to get changed into my Arena armor, and if my first impressions of it were anything to go by, it was more than good enough for me. It didn't fit me quite as well as my Dark Brotherhood armor, but I could move in it just fine, and I'd have chosen it over my battered, oversized Kvatch cuirass any day. Going back to Cloud Ruler Temple wouldn't mean having to wear uncomfortable armor, anymore. Though I supposed it was a bit on the revealing side. I'd worn smallclothes that covered more than the… smaller smallclothes, I suppose, that I'd been given to cover my bits. The Arena's popularity finally made sense to me; it gave people a place to look at half-naked warriors and bloody carnage at the same time. It was a wonder I'd never gone there to watch a match or two myself, really.

Not having pants had never bothered me, anyway. Modesty wasn't high on my list of priorities, and it was nice to have a set of armor I wouldn't overheat in while the weather was still warm.

Once I'd made sure I had everything tucked away as securely as I could, I made my way back to Owyn, hoping that I hadn't just signed my own death warrant. I didn't see any reason I wouldn't be a match for anyone the Arena threw at me, especially considering my low rank, but I knew better than to think a few successful Dark Brotherhood contracts made me invincible. Still, I needed to stab something, and I liked my odds of surviving an Arena match better than my odds of getting to live after murdering Ocato.

"You haven't run home to momma yet, huh? That's a good sign. So, you ready for a match, or do you just need some information?" Owyn asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"I'm ready for a match."

"Sure you are, and I'm the damned emperor. Still, looks like you're suited up in your battle raiment and all set to go, if you want your innards decorating this place that badly."

That settled it. I wasn't backing down. "Enjoying the view, are we?" I asked, wiggling my hips a little. I'd hoped to at least make Owyn feel a bit uncomfortable before heading into whatever the Arena had in store for me, but he just rolled his eyes at me. I'd have to try harder next time, if there was one.

"You wish. The Red Room is just over there. When you're ready to get eviscerated, just head up the ramp to the Arena. Anything goes, as long as you keep the armor on and don't try to scavenge anything off your opponent's corpse if you're lucky enough to win. Good luck, and may Azura have mercy on your soul."

"I'll be seeing you soon, then," I called over my shoulder as I started walking in the general direction he'd pointed me in. It didn't take me long to figure out how the Red Room had gotten its name; a thick layer of blood almost completely covered its walls, filling it with an eerie, red glow and overpowering, coppery smell. A giant, surprisingly clean basin, probably for cleaning up after winning a fight, sat at the room's center.

My footsteps echoed off the walls as I made my way up the dark ramp leading to a bloodstained door, unsheathing my dagger as I pushed it open and stepped out into the Arena itself. When I reached the gate separating the Arena proper from the long, empty corridor I'd found myself in, a loud voice from somewhere above me shouted out something, though the way it echoed off the walls made it impossible for me to make any sense of it. The gate dropped almost as soon as the voice had finally shut up, and before I'd finished blinking the sun out of my eyes, a Bosmer woman armed with a sword and shield charged across the Arena at me.

I stepped out of the way of her first strike easily enough, and she ended up stabbing her sword into the soft, sandy ground instead of my gut. While she was busy trying to yank it free, I ran past her, hoping to move our fight into the much larger ring outside my corridor; getting trapped in a tight space like that when her weapon had a longer reach than mine seemed like a bad idea. I hadn't so much as caught my breath before she'd freed her sword and charged me again. She came closer to hitting me than I would've liked, but I managed to dodge her a second time, and tried to put an end to her with a quick stab to the neck, but she got her shield up just in time to send my dagger ripping through her shoulder and back, instead.

She shrieked in pain, whipping her shield into my face hard enough to knock me off my feet. I managed to keep my grip on my dagger somehow, and came to my senses in time to roll out of the way of her attempt to drive her sword through my chest. As she tried to pull her blade out of the ground again, I got to my feet, yanked her head back, and slit her throat. She kept herself upright at first, using her sword as a crutch as she gurgled what was probably supposed to be a curse at me, but it wasn't long before her arms gave out and she fell to the ground, dead. I didn't know if I'd given them quite the spectacle they'd wanted – throat-slitting was fast and effective, but didn't make for much of a show or bloody mess – but the crowd's cheers sounded happy enough to me as I stepped away from the Bosmer woman's corpse. Apparently I'd done quite well for myself. I just hoped she hadn't done any serious damage with that shield of hers; my face was still throbbing with pain, and when I touched it, my hand came away bloody.

The Bosmer woman's sword and shield looked like they'd sell for a fair bit of coin, and she didn't have much use for them anymore, but knowing I'd have to face a penalty of some kind for taking them kept my fingers from getting too itchy. I kept my hands busy waving to the crowd, instead, as I made my way back to the Bloodworks. The washbasin in the Red Room must have had some sort of healing, or at least numbing, effect, since the pain I felt gave way to a faint stinging sensation as I washed the blood off my face and arms. And from what I could see of my reflection in it when I'd finished, nothing was out-of-place enough to notice.

As I dried my face with a blood-stained rag draped over the basin's side, a hard slap on the back sent me toppling right back into the water. I pulled myself up, sputtering and dripping wet, and turned around to find Owyn having a good laugh at my expense.

"You'd better work on that balance of yours if you want to last much longer around here, Pit Dog. But I gotta hand it to you, a win's a win. Maybe you ain't so bad, after all. If that luck of yours holds out, you might even surivive enough matches to advance in rank," he said, tossing a bag of septims at me. "Here, kid. This is your payout for the victory. There's more where that came from if you keep on winning."

I set the bag of septims on the floor and started drying myself off again. "Thank you?"

"Don't give me that kicked-puppy look. You just took a shield to the face; what's a friendly pat on the back after something like that? It's a bit late to try the 'helpless pretty boy' act now, ain't it?"

"If that was a friendly pat on the back, I'd hate to see you hit someone."

Owyn started laughing again, and clapped me on the shoulder. If I hadn't been leaning on the washbasin, I might have fallen over again. "Careful there, kid. Keep this up and I might actually start to like you. Then I'll really hate having to scrub the bits of your corpse off the floor, later."

"I guess I'll just have to keep winning, then."

"That's the spirit! You ready for another match, or are you gonna disappoint me?"

"I'm ready, if you are." As much as it hurt, Owyn's praise felt good. And hearing the crowd cheering for me after my first Arena victory had felt even better. It was nice to not have to hide the fact that I'd killed someone, for a change, and I couldn't think of a better way to get myself trained at fighting properly, instead of sneaking around like I usually did. If anything, it was probably safer than learning on the job if things went badly and I got myself noticed on a contract or, even worse, inside an Oblivion gate. At least I knew what was coming in the Arena, and could have myself ready for it instead of trying to fight my way out of a hiding place. And if all else failed, I had my new bow with me; as long as I wasn't up against an archer, I could just climb one of the stone columns in the Arena's center and shoot at my opponent until I hit them or they gave up. Judging by the weight of the coin purse Owyn had given me, the pay wasn't half bad, either.

Owyn sent me back up the ramp with another pat on the back, and before I knew it, the day was over, pretty much every part of my body hurt, and I'd gotten myself up to Bloodletter rank, whatever that meant. I just cared about finding myself a nice meal somewhere, and getting myself ready for the trip to Sancre Tor I'd have to make the next morning. I'd run out of reasons to put it off any longer, and I'd probably kept Martin waiting too long already.

I was lucky enough to find a blacksmith in the Market District who hadn't closed up shop yet, and while I waited for her to repair my weapons and armor, I got myself a nice bowl of stew at The Feed Bag. It wasn't anything special, but it was still miles above anything I could've cooked for myself. After paying the blacksmith, I still had a fair amount of gold left over, so I went ahead and bought myself a few silver arrows, just in case the rumors about regular weapons not working on ghosts were true. Not that I wanted to fight any ghosts, but if Sancre Tor really was haunted, I figured I had a good chance of running into a few there, and knowing I had something I could fight them with made me feel better. I didn't see how shooting a ghost could be much different than shooting a rabbit, after all. The rest of my gold went under my loose floorboard with the rest of my savings when I finally went home for the night, and once I'd seen to that, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

When I rolled out of bed the next morning, my whole body hurt, like I'd stretched everything out more than I should have. Which… I probably had, actually, but that didn't make getting my armor on or hauling myself onto my horse any easier. I didn't run into any trouble on my way there, but I didn't trust myself to stay on my horse at anything faster than a slow trot, feeling as stiff as I did, so I didn't make it to Sancre Tor until sunset. I had to find my way through a maze of crumbling walls on my way into the catacombs themselves, and if the skeletons shambling around them were anything to go by, the place was as haunted as Jauffre had promised. I didn't have much trouble getting rid of them – they fell apart after a good whack or two with a good-sized stick I'd picked up off the ground – but seeing them move around without any fleshy bits holding them together still gave me the shivers.

Things got a bit harder for me inside the catacombs. I ended up fighting ghosts, mostly, which meant I had to convince my arms to use a real weapon, and actually aim for something, instead of just swinging a stick in a general, enemy-ward direction. The glow they gave off usually meant I saw them before they saw me, at least, and they moved slow enough for me to pick them off with my bow, without getting in range of their claws and grabby hands. Though the fight the bowstring gave me made me wish I'd put a bit more effort into shooting rabbits when I was younger, or that I'd given it another try at some point in the last four years. I lost more than a few silver arrows to the darkness trying to get the hang of it again.

I was almost relieved when I found another skeleton, and got to use my stick again. Until a ghost oozed its way out of the bones once I'd broken it apart, and scared me halfway out my skin. Luckily for me, it turned out to be the ghost of an ancient Blade who'd gotten himself cursed, along with the catacombs, back in Tiber Septim's day. He didn't seem to hold the hitting-with-a-stick thing against me, seeing as it had broken his curse, and he was nice enough to tell me that if I wanted Tiber Septim's armor, I had to un-curse the other three Blades who'd gotten cursed along with him, first.

I managed to find and rescue, if I could rightly call it that, the rest of the Blades without too much trouble, though my stick snapped in half on the last one. I thought about taking the fancy, enchanted weapons they'd all carried from their skeletons, but stealing from the honored dead like that, especially after freeing them the way I had, just didn't sit right with me. Once the Blades had purified the rest of Sancre Tor for me, I just had to pick up the armor and walk out the same way I'd come in.

After a quick, uncomfortable nap on the rocky hillside surrounding Sancre Tor, I set off for Cloud Ruler Temple. I found Martin sitting in his usual spot in the main hall, poring over the Mysterium Xarxes and scribbling something on a piece of parchment like his life depended on it. He had dark circles under his eyes, and I could've sworn he'd picked up a wrinkle or two since the last time I'd seen him.

"Any luck?" I asked, sitting down across from him and setting Tiber Septim's armor down on the table between us. "Because I managed to collect the Armor without getting myself killed, and it's probably for the best that I go looking for the rest of what we need before I grow a sense of self-preservation."

Martin's eyes lit up as he flipped the Mysterium Xarxes closed. "The Septim blood may flow through my veins, but you have the soul of a hero, my friend. Jauffre will be amazed to see this, though not until I've taken a scraping of Talos' divine blood from it, perhaps. The Blades are as touchy as priests about relics of Tiber Septim, it seems. Best not to worry him."

"I don't think my soul had anything to do with it; I just found a damn good stick."

"Well, whatever it was, I'm grateful," Martin replied, his expression of joy turning to a puzzled frown as he looked me over. "How in Oblivion are you not freezing to death in that armor? This is Bruma, not the Imperial City Arena."

"I grew up in Skyrim, remember? And I've been wearing revealing clothing fairly regularly for the past few years. You get used to it after a while."

Martin sighed. "So long as you don't get frostbite, I suppose it's none of my concern. While you were gone, I made some progress in deciphering the Mysterium Xarxes ritual. The third item we need is a Great Welkynd Stone. You may have run across lesser Welkynd Stones; they are fairly common in Ayleid ruins. But a Great Welkynd Stone will not be easy to come by. They have been plundered one by one over the years, due to their great value to mages and occultists. There is only one place that is rumored to still contain one: the ruins of the Ayleid city of Miscarcand. A place where many have perished seeking its Great Stone. But nothing else will do, so you must succeed where all others have failed."

"So, it's another suicide mission… Just what I wanted to do. Tell me, is this really necessary for us to get the Amulet back, or do you just want me dead?"

"I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but there truly is no other way to acquire the items we need. I've tried time and again to convince Jauffre to send someone else after it, but he insists on keeping every last member of the Blades here for my protection." Martin gave me a rueful smile. "Besides, if you succeeded in retrieving Tiber Septim's armor with a stick, I think you're underestimating your skills."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, I suppose. I take it Miscarcand is also going to be crawling with undead?"

"It is said that the ruins are still haunted by the vengeful spirit of its last king. And if he is still there, he probably isn't alone. True or not, it is not a place to enter lightly. Be careful."

"I'll do my best," I replied, getting back on my feet before my bench got too comfortable. "Throw a book at Jauffre's head for me next time you see him, will you?"

"I'll throw as many books as you want at whoever you like, so long as you make it out of this alive. I know you have braved many dangers already, but Miscarcand is not to be taken lightly."

"Now when have I ever taken something lightly? You haven't managed to kill me so far; what makes this time any different?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood a little. I wasn't happy about getting sent into another undead-infested hole in the ground, but that didn't mean I had to drag Martin down along with me. The man had enough to worry about, already.

The smile he managed in response, strained as it was, kept me as warm as I needed to be on my way back down the snowy mountainside.


	12. The Wayward Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has probably undergone the most change out of everything I've rewritten so far. I ended up adding several bits of dialogue that didn't exist in the original fic and cutting out parts of the original dialogue that just didn't sound good, which I hope gave some additional context to the characters' actions in this chapter and generally made them sound more like themselves. Things also got a lot more Lucien-heavy this time around, so if anyone has any thoughts on how that worked out, I'd really appreciate hearing them. Along with any thoughts you may have on any other aspect of the chapter, or this fic as a whole, of course. It's nice to know I'm not writing this in an echo chamber.

I had more than had my fill of the accursed Oblivion Gate outside Cheydinhal. Since the day it opened, it had transformed travel from Fort Farragut to my sanctuary from a short, pleasant ride over a grassy plain to its present teeth-clenching ordeal of navigating the sea of jagged, rocky spires the gate had spawned around itself. The clouds it conjured to darken the sky above it cast a migraine-inducing, red glow on everything in the area. The stray Daedra that often crawled from its depths, as simple as they were to dispose of, did little to endear their place of origin to me, and I had far better things to do with my time than put an end to creatures fool enough to nip at the legs of a horse that made a meal of any small woodland creature too slow to escape her jaws and even wolves feared to approach. Were its other inconveniences not enough, every day it remained open presented a growing risk of Cheydinhal becoming a second Kvatch, and every resident of my sanctuary, save for Remy and Telaendril, had stopped taking on contracts outside the city, citing fear of the gate as their reason for doing so.

Why Remy had yet to close the thrice-damned thing was beyond my comprehension, much like almost everything else pertaining to him, and while I was certain I could convince him to close it when next we met, I wasn't at all certain whether it was worthwhile to wait that long. There was a certain risk inherent in closing the gate myself, but the same could be said of any of the activities my line of work entailed. I doubted the task would present overly much difficulty; if Remy's accounts were to be believed, I simply needed to climb a tower and remove the sigil stone it contained, and I'd find myself transported safely back to Tamriel with any other non-Daedric occupants of the gate. If Remy had successfully closed three Oblivion gates, I saw no reason I couldn't close one of my own. Closing this particular gate for him served my own best interests, anyway.

Bizarre as his methods often were, Remy was a relatively valuable member of the Dark Brotherhood, and while the ever-growing problem of the traitor in our midst continued, the last thing I needed was another semi-competent assassin under my command dying in a non-work-related fashion. I faced enough suspicion from my fellow Speakers already, in light of the gruesome end my Silencer, Maria, had met several months earlier. Remy's inordinate amount of luck may have protected him so far, but even the luckiest man had a finite limit on the amount of times he could be partially shredded and live to tell the tale. I also couldn't deny the benefits of having found a lover who didn't insist on excessive, sticky displays of affection, demand obscene levels of commitment, or require false confessions of love to get into bed, and I intended to keep him for as long as possible. Which, of course, would be somewhat difficult if said lover ended up as a corpse.

After getting Shadowmere settled in the paddock at the Black Waterside Stables, I slipped past the guards stationed in front of the gate with the aid of a Chamelon spell and stepped through its cold flames. With any luck, I'd have no trouble navigating the plane of Oblivion that lay beyond it, and I could return to my duties as a Speaker before the day's end.

\----------

After taking a fireball to the face from a flame atronach it had spit out, I decided it was finally time to look into closing the damned Oblivion gate outside Cheydinhal. A guard stopped me just outside the gate, and told me that the Count's son, Farwil, had disappeared into it, along with six other men, two days ago. Meaning I'd have to look for him on my way to the sigil stone. If my past experiences were anything to go by, I'd have considered myself lucky if I managed to bring so much as his corpse back with me, but I knew better than to mention anything about that to a city guard. As much as I didn't like the thought of telling a count his child was dead, I couldn't exactly turn around and leave after hearing something like that, so into the gate I went.

Aside from a few corpses of what were probably Farwil's companions, it seemed like I was alone in that particular section of Oblivion. I'd seen my fair share of Daedra, of course, but they'd all been as dead as the people I'd found, though their wounds didn't look like they'd come from any weapon I'd seen on the human corpses in the gate. They were too small and clean… almost pretty, really. Not that I had any complaints about someone else killing them for me; I just didn't know if I liked the thought that someone else was there with me. I doubted my competition would be friendly, considering the reward they stood to gain from rescuing Farwil, and they wouldn't have much trouble blaming any murders they committed in Oblivion on the Daedra living there.

After half-climbing, half-sliding down a steep, rocky hill instead of taking my chances in a cave that might have offered a softer way down, I came across the first live Daedra I'd seen since entering the gate. They looked like a normal enough pair of robed Dremora, though one was a fair bit smaller than any I'd seen before. I decided to go for the little one first; with any luck, it'd be a bit squishier than its larger friend, and I liked my chances of running away from the big one, if it came to that, better. If I'd learned anything running from the city guards over the years, it was that extra bulk meant slower running and a hard time turning sharp corners. Before I could so much as get my dagger out, the little Dremora had shoved its blade through the bigger one's back and leaned back against a boulder to watch it bleed out on the ground.

I dragged myself out of the shadows at the bottom of the hill, trying to stay out of the Dremora's line of sight as I crept closer to it. As I got closer, I realized it wasn't a Dremora, at all. I stuck my dagger back into its sheath, so I didn't start any unnecessary fights with whoever I was sharing the Oblivion gate with, only to find myself shoved against a boulder with a shortsword at my throat before I could think of a way to introduce myself. I wouldn't have called it a pleasant position to be in, by any means, but I'd almost gotten used to it by that point. And if his nose was anything to go by, at least I knew who had me pinned this time, and that he probably didn't want me dead.

Lucien looked me over for a moment, breathing hard, like he'd just run a mile, then shook his head and let me go. "It's about time you got here."

"Your greetings could still use some work," I said, rubbing at my neck. It stung a little, and my hand came away with a few small streaks of red on it. Whether he'd meant to or not, he'd actually cut me. "If this is the reward I get for being more aware of my surroundings, I don't think I'll be doing it again.

"I had no idea who, or what, you were until a moment ago. In case you didn't notice, you were trying your hardest to stay out of my sight. Quite successfully, as a matter of fact, until you made an obscene racket out of sheathing your weapon – well done. Contrary to popular belief, however, I do not have eyes in the back of my head, nor am I all-seeing."

"Have you considered a smaller hood? That thing can't be easy to see out of."

"You're quite calm for a man who just very nearly got himself killed."

"Honestly, I've gotten used to it by now. You just scratched me a little; I've had worse than that today."

"Considering the hazardous nature of both your lines of work, that's hardly surprising." Lucien sighed, pushing back his hood and running a hand over his hair. "I am beginning to understand why you've put this off for so long. How in Sithis' name have you survived three of these already?"

I shrugged. "Sheer dumb luck. It helps if you don't try to kill all the Daedra, too. There's too damned many of them. It's nice to have company who probably won't get himself killed this time around, though."

"I assure you, there's no 'probably' about it."

"Good to hear. Don't suppose you've run into the Count's son, have you? I'm a bit worried about him; it looks like all his friends are dead."

"Unless he happens to be a Daedra, no."

"Damn. Hopefully he didn't wander too much farther in… He's not likely to last much longer on his own, if he doesn't get some kind of help."

"We'd best get going, then."

"You're really coming with me? I didn't take you for the heroic sort."

"I'm not. It's simply in my own best interests to ensure that you don't get yourself killed on account of some fool, Count's son or not."

"So, does this mean you don't think I'm a fool anymore?"

"No. You are, however, my fool. And a relatively useful one."

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," I said, setting off in what I hoped was Farwil's general direction. "I still think you're my grumpy Speaker, too."

\----------

I sighed, following Remy along the rocky path that wound its way through the plane of Oblivion he'd joined me in. And then over the edge of what could only be referred to as a cliff, which went a long way toward explaining the scuff marks on his armor. After walking along the cliff's base for a short while, we found Farwil and his last remaining companion huddling in the paltry shelter a doorway carved into the rock provided. Both clutched their weapons in white-knuckled hands, their slumped, clumsy postures revealing their inexperience in both combat and carrying the weight of heavy armor. I could practically smell the fear shining in their wide, blood-shot eyes. Remy's suggestion the he approach them alone, in an effort to avoid frightening them further, held an abnormal level of sense, and I agreed to remain out of their sight until they calmed down or proved to be too far gone to reason with. If nothing else, it would give me another opportunity to observe him at work.

He approached his quarry in the same brisk, direct way he carried out his deathcraft, and made an admirable show of listening to Farwil's embellished drivel. His gentle attempt at dissuading the boy from his determination to accompany him through the sigil tower mirrored his preference for slitting throats – clean and relatively painless, but ultimately impractical in the face of opposition.

Farwil's protest of, "Are you mad? A Knight of the Thorn never returns home until the mission is done. It's our way," came as no great shock.

Remy took a step back, his mouth opening and closing in a manner not unlike that of a fish dragged, gasping, from its watery home and left helpless on dry land. I prepared to intervene on his behalf, assuming he had failed in his purpose, until he froze, curled his hands into fists, and shoved Farwil back against the door.

"Is this some sort of game to you? The rest of your 'Knights of the Thorn' are dead!" he snarled, slamming his fist into Farwil's armor in a manner likely to cause an impressive bruise later. "Look at you! Before I found you, you were skulking in a doorway, with your tail tucked between your legs like a kicked dog! What makes you think you'll be any different the moment you see another Daedra?"

"H-how dare you… I'll have you know, my father-"

"I don't care if your father is the high king of Skyrim! You're afraid, and you don't want to be here. No one does. I sure as Oblivion don't, but unlike prissy, fluffed-up nobles like you, I didn't get a choice in the matter! I've had better men than you have followed me into Oblivion before, and not a one of them lived to tell about it, and since I'm not getting any soldiers sent to Bruma without dragging your sorry hide out of here, you aren't getting the honor of becoming one of them. Now sit down next to your friend there and wait for me to finish this, or I swear to each and every one of the Divines I'll toss you into a lava pool and save the Daedra the trouble of finishing you off themselves!" Remy pounded on Farwil's armor once more, then turned and stalked across the bridge spanning the lake of lava surrounding the sigil tower. The potential risk of threatening a count's son aside, I had to admit, I'd never seen him look quite so… alluring; perhaps there was more to him than I'd initially assumed. I found myself lamenting the lack of safe, secluded corners to fully explore that in, in our current location.

Farwil stared after him for a moment, sputtering a series of half-formed objections, before making what was likely the wisest decision of his young life and sitting down beside his last remaining companion. Once I was certain he intended to remain there, I went in search of Remy, myself. I cared little for the thought of allowing him to wander too far into the hazards of Oblivion in such an agitated state. Anger did little to keep a man's mind clear, and less to keep his wits sharp.

I found him repeatedly stabbing the remains of a Clannfear by the sigil tower door, covered in splashes of its crimson blood. It suited him.

\----------

"I believe it's quite dead, now. You're only wasting energy." Lucien's voice snapped me back to reality.

I pulled my dagger free and looked up from my dead Clannfear. Hopefully he hadn't been watching me for too long. "I knew that."

"It seems that Farwil struck a nerve."

I got to my feet, wiping the Clannfear's blood off myself as best I could. "You heard what I said, then?"

"The volume of your exchange made it somewhat difficult to miss."

"That can't have made me look good… Any chance I could get you to forget about it? I don't yell at people on contracts or in the sanctuary, I swear – just ask Vicente. I didn't mean to yell this time, he just… got to me."

"Such concern…" Lucien chuckled. "I assure you, your reputation remains intact. Your actions violated none of the Dark Brotherhood's tenets."

"So, I'm not in trouble?"

"No. In fact, I'm quite pleased that you do, in fact, possess a spine and the ability to think for yourself. You'll require both if you aim to rise any higher through the ranks of our family."

"In that case, I did mean it. He's the exact sort of man who'd have hired me – before all this Oblivion business started, of course, – then gone limp halfway through and tried to blame me for it. I've taken my share of hits from his kind, over the years. It felt good to hit back this time."

"Should I be concerned about that?"

"Nope. You've got nothing to worry about there." I smiled. "Let's get this gate closed before Farwil changes his mind."

Lucien didn't so much help me with the Daedra inside the sigil tower as kill the big ones for me while I picked off the stragglers. Most of them smelled the Clannfear blood on me before either of us could sneak close enough to do anything to them, and I didn't want to risk hitting Lucien by trying anything with my bow. Even after stopping to fight so many Daedra, we made it to the sigil stone faster than I'd ever made it there on my own. I wished I'd had him with me back at Kvatch. Things might've gone differently, then. Everything might've gone better if there'd been someone better than me around, really.

I snatched the sigil stone out of its place before I could think too much about that, and we were back in Tamriel before I could so much as blink. "Well, that's the end of gate number four. Time to collect Farwil and claim the reward for rescuing him."

"You'll have to handle that on your own, I'm afraid. I prefer not to draw unnecessary attention to myself; my work is easier when clients don't recognize my face."

"Fair enough. Will you at least stay here long enough for me to bring you your share of the reward? You probably deserve it more than I do."

"As tempting a prospect as that is, I'm afraid I must be going. I'm running behind schedule as it is."

"All right, then. If you're sure…"

"Don't look so disappointed," Lucien purred, pulling me close to him and kissing me in a way I could still feel after he'd let me go, "I'm sure you can think of some way to repay me when next we meet."

I just nodded, watching as he faded out of sight again. I didn't see Farwil anywhere nearby, but the guards who'd been watching the gate had seen him alive and well after the gate closed. The count was happy to hear that the gate was closed and his son was alive, and promised to send a few soldiers to Bruma. He also said he planned to give Farwil a stern talking-to, for what it was worth, and gave me a fancy-looking longsword as a reward for getting him out of Oblivion alive. I couldn't imagine myself actually using it, but it'd look nice enough if I hung it up over my fireplace, I supposed. But that could wait until I'd stopped by the sanctuary to let Ocheeva know I'd finished the Faelian contract.


	13. Blood of the Divines, Indeed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aside from cleaning up a few messes I left in this chapter the first time around, the major changes I made here were in Remy's conversations with Ocheeva and Martin. In Ocheeva's case, I felt it gave me an opportunity to touch on the inner workings of the Cheydinhal sanctuary in a way I'd neglected in the fist version of this, and in Martin's case, I feel like I've captured his character better this way, and hopefully better clarified what he is to Remy this time around.

"The High Elf Faelian now swims in the maelstrom of darkness at the feet of our Dread Father, Sithis, and there were no witnesses to your handiwork. Because of the discretion you exercised, Captain Phillida will not suspect the Dark Brotherhood was involved, and will not meddle in our affairs. Well done!" Ocheeva said as I entered her room, handing me a heavy bag of septims from her desk. I double checked that it was tied off properly before stashing it in my pack, wondering how she managed to sound so much like a proud mother while talking about how I'd murdered a skooma addict. "I have another contract, when you're ready. One that will rely on your ability to remain fully undetected."

"Just let me know where I'm going and who needs to be dead before I leave there, and I'll get to it as soon as I can." I knew I really should have paid more attention to helping Martin get the Amulet of Kings back than murdering some random stranger for fun and profit, but after Sancre Tor, if I never saw another undead creature again, it would have been too soon, and Martin had seemed convinced that Miscarcand would be crawling with them. Besides, I had closed a few Oblivion gates and gotten more soldiers sent to Bruma while I took care of my most recent contracts, so they'd helped Martin as much as the Dark Brotherhood. Accepting a contract didn't mean I had to fulfill it straight away, either, so if it looked like it would take me too far away from my business in Miscarcand, I could always put it off until later.

"Excellent. Now listen closely: nestled in the mountains to the west lies Fort Sutch. It is the home of the warlord Roderick and his mercenaries. Roderick has recently taken ill. He now lies in eternal slumber, kept alive only by the daily administration of a powerful medicine. You must infiltrate Fort Sutch, find Roderick's medicine, and replace it with a poisoned bottle I will provide. But you must remain undetected! Whomever arranged this contract wants it to look like Roderick died from his illness, so discretion is essential. Attack no one! Be seen by no one! If you are detected, the poisoning will fail, and Roderick must be killed in some other manner. That will, of course, forfeit your bonus."

"I think I can handle that." I copied down the fort's location onto my map, inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that our client hadn't insisted on me killing Roderick in a messy way, instead. Or before he'd gotten sick, for that matter. Replacing his medicine with poison sounded like fun, and a little fun was just what I needed. Fort Sutch was on the way to Miscarcand, too, and if I had the time and energy it looked like I could ask for aid from at least one city while I was in the area. Then again, after a bit of thinking about it, I didn't see why city guards were the only people I could ask to help defend Bruma, and I doubted anyone would look too closely at anyone who volunteered to lend a hand the next time an Oblivion gate opened there. And it really was in the Dark Brotherhood's best interests to make sure Mehrunes Dagon didn't succeed in his plan to invade Tamriel; people wouldn't have the time and effort to spare on having their enemies assassinated if that happened, after all. "Before I go, do you think you could help me with something?"

"Of course, my brother. What do you ask of me?"

"I know that we don't exactly specialize in protecting people, but do you think it'd be possible to make an exception if it meant stopping this Oblivion mess from getting any worse? If Bruma turns into a second Kvatch, we lose the emperor's last son, and it's a bit understaffed, at the moment. I'm not suggesting we try to pass any of our guildmates off as guards or anything; I just think it might be a good idea to have a few of us in the area, to keep an eye on things. And step in if an Oblivion gate opens and things get out of hand."

"Most of our family members aren't as heroically inclined as you are, but I'll see what I can do. We are well aware of what happened to Kvatch, and that our fate is intertwined with that of the empire we call home. Bruma is home to one of our sanctuaries; at the very least, its residents will need to involve themselves in defending their city if any Daedra breach its walls. I will discuss the matter with our Speaker, as well, though you really should have done that yourself the last time you saw him. Unless you were too focused on other activities, of course." I could feel myself blushing violet at that, and Ocheeva gave me a knowing, sharp-toothed smirk that didn't help things any. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, brother; there isn't a rule against becoming… involved with another dark brother or sister, so long as it doesn't distract you from your duties. Keeping such relationships in the family helps to protect our secrets, after all."

"How'd you know about that?"

"You can't know Lucien for as long as I have without knowing when he takes an interest in a member of our sanctuary. He only monitors a recruit's progress as closely as he's been monitoring yours if he values them for more than just the gold they bring in." Ocheeva raised a brow ridge at me. "And the two of you positively reeked of each other after the Motierre contract. I'm no hatchling; I know what that means."

"Anyway," I said, hoping she wouldn't try to discuss that scent any further, "If you could talk to him next time he stops by the sanctuary, that'd be great. I have no idea when I'll see him again; he's too unpredictable."

"I think you're the unpredictable one, in this case." Ocheeva reached out and tapped me on the nose with a claw. "If you returned to our sanctuary more often, you'd know he visits us every Middas."

I cringed. She gave out scoldings like a mother, too. "I'm sorry. It's not that I don't want to be here, it's just-"

Ocheeva chuckled. "Fear not, brother. I know the importance of the task that so often calls you away from your family. I will pass on your request to our Speaker when next I see him. Now go, and may Sithis go with you."

"Thanks. May Sithis go with you, too," I replied, making my way back into the sanctuary's main chamber.

Teinaava let me know about a destroyed tower and some flooded tunnels I could use as a secrete entrance into Fort Sutch, but other than that, no one knew anything about it. Even the tunnels might not have been much help to me, depending on exactly how long, and how flooded, they were. I couldn't breathe underwater like Argonians could, and I didn't much care for the thought of drowning because of an ill-advised shortcut. Until I'd had a chance to look at them for myself, I couldn't make any definite plans on getting into the fort, so I didn't waste any time getting myself there.

Aside from coming across yet another Oblivion gate that would need closing at some point, though the fact that the Mythic Dawn had opened it in the middle of nowhere didn't put that high on my list of priorities, I had an easy journey to Fort Sutch, all things considered. Finding the entrance to the flooded tunnels was a bit trickier than I'd expected, but it proved to be worth the effort when I found out that the water in them never got higher than my knees, so I wouldn't need to hold my breath unless I fell into it. I made more noise than I'd have liked to splashing through them, but there was no one around to hear me until I made it onto dry land again, and the woman guarding the entrance to the tunnels was asleep at her post. Judging by all the empty bottles around her, I didn't need to worry about her waking up any time soon.

The trail of wet footprints my sodden boots left behind would've been hard for any waking guards to miss, though, and if I kept leaving them, someone was bound to notice I'd broken in before I finished my contract. I didn't have the time to wait for them to dry, so I stashed them in the remains of a smashed barrel near the fort's entrance and went looking for Roderick barefoot. The cold floor had nothing on the ones in house I'd grown up in during a Skyrim winter, and my feet got used to it after a moment or two. I just hoped I didn't step on anything sharp.

After poking around the fort for a while without getting myself any closer to Roderick, I found a pair of mercenaries talking about him as they patrolled the halls. I kept to the shadows behind them all the way to Roderick's chambers, and found myself a nice, dark corner to wait in until they left his side. I'm sure that plan would've worked eventually, but after spending what felt like hours in my hiding place, it didn't look like either of them would leave their leader unattended any time soon, and I could feel just about every part of me – except for my toes, which had gone numb from the cold – cramping up from holding still so long. They moved around the chamber every now and again, in the same pattern each time, and if I timed things right, I figured I could get to the medicine cupboard and swap out Roderick's medicine for his poison without anyone catching on. I just couldn't figure out where I'd hide myself after. My nose getting itchy settled it; giving up my bonus trying to complete the contract right had to be better than sitting around for Sithis knew how long waiting for a better opportunity to come along, or giving myself away with a sneeze.

As soon as I had another opening, I dashed across the room like I had the hordes of Oblivion behind me to Roderick's medicine cabinet, and swapped the bottle of medicine inside with my identical bottle of poison as quick as I could without rattling anything. I heard footsteps behind me as soon as I'd shut the cabinet, and saw a flicker of torchlight on the wall that meant I'd lost my chance at getting back to my old hiding place. I ducked behind the stone slab Roderick's mercenaries had laid his body on to buy myself some time, and realized that my only chance of staying hidden, and not having to fight my way out of there, was rolling off the ledge a few feet in front of me and hoping I had a soft landing.

The sound of the footsteps getting closer and closer to me didn't leave me much time to think, and I'd thrown myself off the ledge before I fully knew what I was doing. I landed in the shadows below it with a soft thud, and snuck off toward the tunnels as soon as I'd gotten to my feet again. If the noise had blown my cover, no one seemed to be doing anything about it, and I collected my still-wet boots and made it out of the fort without any more trouble.

I probably could have traveled to Miscarcand as soon as I'd left Fort Sutch, and the sun creeping its way over the horizon was as good a sign as any I'd missed my chance at getting a good night's sleep, but I set up a camp in a clump of trees a safe-ish distance away from the fort and the Oblivion gate outside it, anyway. My escape from the fort had got my blood pumping too fast for me to me to feel as tired as I should have, but I still felt stiff and cold, and I wasn't going anywhere until I'd had a chance to warm my feet and dry my boots out. There wasn't any sense in facing whatever Miscarcand had to offer me without getting all my gear into working condition first, after all. And if resting by a campfire for an hour or two meant I'd lose my chance at getting a Great Welkynd Stone while Martin could still use it, the world was probably doomed no matter what I did.

Once my boots had dried and I could feel my toes again, I gathered my things and set off for Miscarcand. I reached its outer walls just before sunset, and didn't run into anything but a skeleton that was already missing a few parts on my way in. Seeing the thing shambling about in broad daylight still sent a shiver down my spine and gave me a queasy feeling in my belly, but at least it was easy to break it apart the rest of the way, and I didn't have to worry about bits of it getting stuck in my hair and the nooks and crannies of my armor like I did with zombies.

Several puddles of blood and a fresh goblin corpse in the first hallway I set foot in made it clear I wasn't the only living thing in Miscarcand. While I doubted the goblin's friends would want to make friends with me, a glance into the first open chamber, and the battle going in inside it, I came across let me know they didn't like the ruin's undead occupants much better. The fighting kept both groups distracted enough for me to slip by them unnoticed, and came to a gate blocking my path barely more than an arm's length from a door leading deeper into the ruins. I couldn't get it to budge no matter what I tried, so I went looking for the mechanism that opened it.

A bit of exploring and sneaking past the odd skeleton, zombie, or goblin that had wandered away from its companions led me to a stone button with a blue light in its center, like an Ayleid version of the glowing-faced buttons all over the ruins in the Shivering Isles. I gave it a good press, and found my way back to a freshly-opened gate. Why the Ayleids had decided it was a good idea to keep their gates' controls so far away from the gates themselves, and on the outside where invaders wouldn't have any trouble getting to them, I'd never know. Probably for the same reason they'd made their arches look so damned phallic.

The rest of Miscarcand didn't look much different than its entrance, except for a few changes in the locations of its gates and stone buttons. The skeleton and zombie populations thickened as I got farther in, too, without any goblins to distract them and thin their numbers. Even if I'd had a way of turning invisible, I didn't think I could have snuck by all of them, and by the time I found the Great Welkynd Stone, I was wearing more zombie goo than I cared to think about.

I hadn't seen any sign of Miscarcand's undead king on my way in, and as I stuffed the stone into my pack, I assumed Martin had been wrong on that count. Until a section of the wall slid open and a dried-out corpse wearing a fancy set of robes shambled out, an enormous zombie on either side of him. Before I could do much of anything, the king had shot a bolt of lightning at me, which launched me back a few feet and over the edge of the platform I'd found the Great Welkynd Stone on. I had just enough to feel grateful he'd launched my pack off the platform with me as I fell, and then the ground knocked just about everything out of me, thoughts included.

I lay there for a moment, still twitching from the lightning as it fizzled out of me, trying to force my limbs to move the way I wanted them to as I watched the king and his zombies walk down the stairs they hadn't let me use. I knew I didn't stand a snowflake's chance in Oblivion of leaving the ruin alive unless I could get myself up and running, if the king could cause that much damage with just a flick of his wrist.

I got to my feet, still buzzing a little inside, and forced myself to run back the way I'd come. I must've caught the attention of every creature I'd snuck past on my way in, and my whole left side smarted something fierce where I'd landed on it, but I made it out of Miscarcand without more than a few scratches and bites from skeletons and zombies who'd been too slow to get a proper hold on me. I found my horse tied to a tree, where I'd left him, and as soon as I'd undone the knots holding him there and hopped onto his back, we were galloping toward Bruma. I didn't know whether the king had followed me out of his ruin, and I didn't want to; all that mattered was putting as much distance between him and me as possible.

Martin was arguing with Jauffre, and wearing Tiber Septim's armor, for some reason, when I made it back to Cloud Ruler Temple, though they both went quiet as soon as they saw me. It made me wonder just how bad I looked. Or smelled; I didn't imagine the lightning had done much to improve either.

"Please tell me this is the last thing we need," I said, pulling the Great Welkynd Stone out of my pack. Something had made it a bit wet and sticky along the way. Judging by the bits of pink glass stuck to it in places, I'd probably shattered a few potion bottles in my fall. "I don't know how many more times you can patch me up before there'll be nothing left to patch."

"You're back. And you've got the Great Stone…" Martin looked me over, his face twisted into something between awe and horror. "Though clearly, its acquisition could have gone more smoothly. What happened?"

"I said I'd get it for you, and I did. I just ran into a bit of trouble with Miscarcand's king and his lightning magic on my way. I feel better, now that I'm not buzzing anymore. Really."

Martin shook his head. "At least you're still in one piece." He took the Great Welkynd Stone and laid it on his work table, then started fussing over me like a mother hen, poking at just about every painful spot on me. When he'd finished with that, he sat me down on a bench and had me take a few drinks of a healing potion, to fix anything that might've gone wrong with my insides, while he tended to everything else. Whatever his healing spells did to me made the bites and scratches sting worse than when I'd got them, but I wasn't about to complain about having all of them closed up again. "Now then, we need only one more item, and we'll be ready to open a portal into Mankar Camoran's realm." He sighed, adjusting his armor like it didn't fit him quite right.

"And I'm the lucky bastard who gets to find it for you, right? You really are going to have to turn me into a zombie before all this is over…"

"I'm sorry, my friend, but this truly is the last item I require for the ritual. I should have seen it sooner. It's the counterpart to the Great Welkynd Stone, just as the first two were the opposed power of the Daedra and the Divines. Welkynd stones contain the concentrated power of Mundus; their counter parts are sigil stones, with are used to hold open Oblivion gates. A Great Sigil Stone, then, is what we require."

"How do we get one of those, then?"

"You're not going to like it. Jauffre doesn't like it. The countess of Bruma certainly isn't going to like it. Great Sigil Stones are the anchors of Great Gates. The kind of gate that the Mythic Dawn opened at Kvatch. The kind of gate the Mythic Dawn wants to open here to destroy Bruma."

My gut sank so far I could've sworn I felt it hit the floor. "So… Our plan is to let them to the exact thing we've been trying to stop them from doing, this whole time? Are you sure you're feeling all right? Have you taken any blows to the head recently? Taken skooma?"

"Yes, no, and not since I became a priest. I said you weren't going to like it. The risk is great, I know. I was at Kvatch. I saw the terrible power of the Daedric siege engine. But we have no choice. The only way to recover the Amulet of Kings is to allow the Mythic Dawn to proceed with their plan to attack Bruma."

"And you'll be staying safe in the temple, right?"

Martin's armor glittering in the firelight gave me his answer before he did. "No. I'll lead the defense of Bruma myself. If I am to be Emperor, it's time I started acting like one."

"You don't have to do this, really. I know I complain about having to do everything myself, and I'm sorry about that, but I really don't mind doing all this for you. I'm expendable; you aren't. Let me lead. I'll try harder to keep everyone alive this time, I swear! I've managed it with you, so far, haven't I?"

"Do you remember when we first met in Kvatch? I told you that I didn't want any part of the gods' plan. I still don't know if there is a divine plan. But I've come to realize it doesn't matter. What matters is that we act. That we do what's right, when confronted with evil. That's what you did at Kvatch. It wasn't the gods that saved us. It was you. Were you acting for the gods? I don't know. But now it's my turn to act."

I sighed, and looked down at my feet. I couldn't meet his eyes after something like that. Not after everything else I'd done lately. "I'd like to know who this person you met in Kvatch is, but I'd like to meet him sometime. He sounds like a better man than I am. If you knew me, Martin – the real me, I mean, not the one who's been running all across Cyrodiil for you – I don't think you'd care much for him."

Martin placed one hand on my shoulder, and used the other to lift my chin up so I couldn't look at anything but him. "And what makes you so certain that you aren't your true self while 'running all across Cyrodiil' for me? Everything you were – everything else you may be now – means nothing more than you allow it to. You've proven yourself willing, time and again, to risk your own life for the people of Tamriel. I could ask nothing more of you." His eyes stared into mine, warmer than should've been possible with their icy-blue color, like he'd seen everything I'd done outside my quests for him and already forgiven me for it. Talos himself couldn't have looked more like a god, like an emperor, in his armor. In that moment, I'd have followed him through ten Oblivion gates, and Miscarcands, if he'd asked me to.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, then said, "I've never said 'no' to you before, and I'm not going to start now. If you're sure it's what you want to do, I'll help you. But if you don't mind, I'd like to go and find a few more soldiers for us, first. I'm not sure an army of four is going to be enough to stand against the same kind of Oblivion gate that destroyed Kvatch."

Martin let go of my shoulder, and took a step back. "Of course. I'll be waiting for you when you're ready. Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll be needing it…"


	14. Shrine to Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest change I made to this chapter was completely redoing the scene between Mathieu and Lucien at the end, so I'm hoping that worked out well.
> 
> Also, at the request of a commenter, I have posted the original version of this under the title "The Gods Must Be Crazy (Sloppy First Draft Edition)," if anyone's interested in that. I posted it under its original 2012 publication date, so it didn't end up on the list of newly updated stories and cause unnecessary confusion.

I spent the next couple of weeks in a blur of traveling from one city to another, closing the Oblivion gates closest to them, and then resting and healing myself up before moving on to the next one. It wasn't easy work, but someone had to do it, and at least I usually got free healing and a bit of coin from any valuables I could snatch on my way through the gates afterward. I'd have liked to go back to Cheydinhal, and see whether poisoning Roderick had worked out like it was supposed to, but I'd taken care of its Oblivion gate already, and I didn't have the time to spare to go that far out of my way. I hoped Ocheeva would understand. If something had gone wrong after I'd left Fort Sutch, I didn't want to have to worry about it until after I'd helped Martin fix the Oblivion mess, anyway.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I'd visited and asked for aid from every major city except Leyawiin. After riding in its general direction for hours, under a freezing downpour of autumn rain the whole way, I found myself in a mostly-sheltered clearing, and decided to stop for a while to see if I could wait out the worst of the storm. A few other people seemed to have had the same idea, and had stripped down to their smallclothes for some reason. Not that I was complaining, of course – most of them weren't half bad to look at – they just didn't look like the sort to weather that kind of wet and cold without catching their death of it. Maybe they'd just laid their clothes out to dry somewhere.

They'd all clustered themselves around a statue of what looked like Sheogorath. Or, well, me, but that didn't make it any less strange. I'd found my shrine, apparently. I supposed I'd have to look at getting it changed, at some point. The outfit could stay the same, but I'd have to do something about the beard. The statue would never look like me with it, and I couldn't grow one to match.

I knew I really should've just marked the shrine on my map and come back to it later, but the rain hadn't shown any signs of letting up, and I just couldn't resist finding out what happened if I made an offering at my own shrine. After asking around a bit, I found out that Ravel, the only other clothed person in the clearing, was the closest thing to a leader Sheogorath's – my – worshippers had, and decided to try and get some kind of instruction out of him.

He jumped halfway out of his skin when I tapped him on the shoulder. "Place? Not place? Here? Not here? Welcome to the Grove of Madness, stranger. Or go away. Who knows? Time will tell."

"All right, then. Um… I'd like to speak to Sheogorath? Can I do that here?"

Ravel shrugged. "Approach the shrine. He might appear. Because it's raining. He loves the rain. Because it's wet. Or because it's rainy. Not so sure. Of course, you'll need an offering. I think a lesser soul gem, a head of lettuce, and some yarn will do the trick. Yes. That's what Sheogorath wants."

"Thank you," I said, making my way to the base of the shrine. A few minutes of rummaging later, I'd found everything I'd needed in my pack, though the lettuce had gone a bit brown and moldy, and since I didn't have much use for any of them, I went ahead and placed them at my statue's feet and hoped for the best.

"Praying to yourself, my Lord? That's not a good sign. Or perhaps it is. Prince of Madness, and all that. While I believe you should be attending to your duties, it is, of course, your prerogative to spend time wherever you wish. Your predecessor did have one task He wanted performed, though He never found a mortal suited for the task." Haskill's voice rang out across the clearing, in all its monotone glory.

"I'm a mortal. Or at least, I used to be. Either way, I think I've proven myself suitable enough for whatever Sheogorath wanted done, and you might as well make use of me while I'm here. I'm not going back to the Shivering Isles until I'm good and ready for it." I knew I should have taken my duties more seriously, but I had enough to worry about, already. I'd made a commitment to save Tamriel before I'd even set foot in the Shivering Isles, and I couldn't just walk away from my home in its time of need. I liked Tamriel, and a fair number of the people living in it. Maybe once I started outliving everyone I knew, things would be different, but that wouldn't be for a few decades, at least. I'd feel more ready for the responsibility then, too. Having Martin relying on me was hard enough; I didn't have the first idea how to handle a whole plane of Oblivion's worth of people expecting me to take care of them. Besides, Haskill probably knew how to run things better than I did. He'd be fine on his own, for a while.

Haskill sighed. "Yes, my lord. Your wish is my command. There is a settlement called Border Watch that your predecessor found rather dull. This, of course, offended Him greatly. They are a rather superstitious group, living their lives based on omens and prophecy. One such prophecy, the K'sharra, was of particular interest. Your task would be to make the first two signs of the prophecy occur. Your predecessor already put plans in motion for the final step. Good luck."

According to my map, I'd pass by Border Watch a few miles down the road to Leyawiin, so I could make a stop there without going too far out of my way. It had gotten fairly late, and I'd never managed to get an audience with a Count past nightfall, so I doubted I would've had a chance to speak with Leyawiin's ruler that day even if I hadn't stopped by my shrine. Even if I hadn't offered to do a favor for myself, I probably would've stopped by Border Watch's inn looking for a dry place to spend the night, anyway.

When I got there, a Khajiit named Ri'Bassa gave me a warm welcome, and was nice enough to explain the first two parts of the K'sharra prophecy, a plague of rats followed by the town's sheep dying off, to me while he walked me to the inn. He wouldn't even speak of the third, aside from telling me it was too awful for words. He also told me about the innkeeper's fondness for pungent cheeses, which I could have smelled for myself as soon as I'd set foot inside.

After paying for my room and a bowl of an odd, fish-and-cheese stew, I sat by the fire, waiting for my clothes to dry while I tried to figure out just how I was supposed to make the K'sharra prophecy happen. Killing a few sheep sounded easy enough, if a bit messy and noisy, but I didn't have the first idea how to summon a plague of rats. A wave of cheese-scented air that had broken out of the glass cases the innkeeper kept her cheeses in rolled over me, and for a moment I was back in Skyrim, sitting by the hearth while my adoptive mother unwrapped a wheel of her favorite stinky Breton cheese she'd import every now and again, no matter how much my adoptive father complained. He'd eventually talked her into giving it up after a particularly strong batch had summoned almost every skeever in Skyrim to our house, but even then she'd bought a sliver or two for herself whenever we went to the market without him. Along with an extra sweetroll or two for me, to keep me quiet about it. I never ratted her out.

That's when I realized I knew exactly how to summon a plague of rats. I finished my stew, paid the innkeeper a few extra septims for a bottle of mead, and got myself settled into my room. The soft pillows and warm blankets on the bed couldn't have looked more inviting, but I couldn't let myself go to sleep just yet. Instead, I had a seat on the floor beside it, sipping my mead while I waited for the innkeeper to turn in for the night.

When I stopped hearing noises outside my door, I snuck out into the inn's main room and had a look at the display cases that housed the innkeeper's cheese. I couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed like the strongest smell came from the case with just one hunk of cheese inside, so I picked the lock on that one first. It was a bit fiddly, but I managed to get it unlocked without snapping too many lockpicks, and I didn't hear any sounds that suggested I'd woken the innkeeper. The smell almost knocked me off my feet when I opened the display case. I'd picked the right cheese, all right.

I cut a chunk off of it with my dagger, then put the rest back in the display case and shut it again so no one would figure out what I'd done. Once I'd put the lock back in place, I took my stolen bit of cheese outside and threw it in the town's communal cooking pot. The heat of the fire beneath it, coupled with the damp, rainy air, amplified its stench tenfold, and I let myself back into the inn before anyone went looking for what had caused it. The smell wasn't so bad inside the inn, so I got myself out of my wet clothes and into my bed for the night. I could see how my plague of rats was coming along in the morning.

A few hours later, I woke up to the sound of screaming outside my window. I dressed myself, gathered my things, and rushed out the inn to find Border Watch overrun with rats, and the cheese burned to a crisp in the cooking pot. No one would find any evidence of what I'd done, there. Ri'Bassa had put out some poison to try and manage the problem, and in all the chaos the rats had caused, no one noticed me stealing some and adding it to the sheep's feed trough. The poor, dumb things all trotted right over to it and started stuffing their faces as soon as they saw me add something to their food. I left the pen before they had a chance to start dropping dead; poison was probably a kinder fate than being slaughtered for mutton, but I still didn't need to stick around and watch it.

After I'd heard the last of them fall to the ground, Haskill's voice rang out from somewhere inside my head and told me to wait in the center of the town for whatever Sheogorath had planned for the third part of the prophecy. Granted, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to see something that Border Watch's people found too horrifying to even speak of, but I didn't see much sense in giving up on my task after I'd already come so far. If I hadn't intended to see it through, I'd have stopped before killing those sheep.

After a few minutes of standing in the rain with nothing to show for it, I was about to go inside and watch the final part of the prophecy through a window when a flaming dog fell from the sky, only a few inches to the left of where I stood. Before I could begin to make sense of it, the rain turned to a downpour of flaming dogs, filling the air with the stench of burnt fur and the awful cracking, squelching sound the poor creatures made when they hit the ground. Most of them died on impact, but one lucky fellow landed on a cushy pile of hay instead of the hard cobblestones that broke the falls of his flaming brethren, and extinguished himself by rolling around in the wet grass before running off into the forest. I hoped he'd find a nice she-wolf to settle down with and raise some pups. After surviving a fall from the sky, he deserved at least that much.

I left Border Watch as soon as the rain of dogs ended, so I could put as much distance between me and it as possible before its people had a chance to realize the K'sharra prophecy had fulfilled itself at the exact same time I visited their town, or start thinking too hard about what that meant. Haskill gave me the Wabbajack, a staff of some sort, as a reward when I reported back to my shrine, which would have been wonderful to have when I needed a Daedric artifact for Martin, but couldn't see much use for at the moment. Still, I figured I should at least try it out before resigning it to a life stashed under my bed, so I strapped it to my back and took it with me.

Leyawiin's Oblivion gate wasn't any harder to close than the others I'd encountered, and once I'd finished with it I began the long ride back to Bruma. In retrospect, visiting the city farthest away from Cloud Ruler Temple last wasn't my brightest idea. It gave me a chance to test the Wabbajack on a pair of bandits who attacked me, at least. One turned into a deer, which suited my needs well enough, but the other ended up as a very angry troll. With results that unreliable, I didn't plan to use it again any time soon. They both changed back to their original selves, minus their desire to try and rob me, a moment or two later, anyway, so even its helpful effects weren't good for much.

When I finally made it back to Cloud Ruler Temple, I found Martin outside, still wearing Tiber Septim's armor and practicing his magic on a training dummy. I sighed. If he'd stuck to it that long, I'd lost any hope of talking him out of joining our attempt to open a Great Gate. I waited for him to take a breather before approaching him. The last thing I needed was to startle him and send one of his spells off-target.

"All right," I said. "I've found us all the help we'll be getting. Let's get this Great Gate of yours opened before anyone has a chance to come to their senses about this."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Martin replied. "First, we'll need to get the Countess to go along with our plan. I'll need you to explain it to her; I'm afraid she may take more convincing than you did."

"Why me? I'm just some Dunmer your father plucked out of a prison cell. She'd be much more likely to listen to the rightful emperor, wouldn't she?"

"No. The people of Bruma know you; they trust you. While you were out closing Oblivion gates, I was sitting inside a temple poring over old books. Like it or not, you are the man people look to as a hero. You are the man she is likely to listen to."

"I'll talk to her, then. If you're sure that's what you want…" I sent a quick prayer to anything that would listen that my meeting with the Countess would go better than asking Chancellor Ocato for aid. "I think you're being too hard on yourself, though. I couldn't have been much help to anyone without you translating those old books for me."

"You flatter me, as always, my friend." Martin smiled. "Ask her to meet me in the Chapel of Talos for a council of war. That seems a fitting place to make such desperate plans."

Needless to say, the Countess wasn't exactly thrilled with Martin's plan.

"You come to me with a desperate plan indeed. This ... Prince? Emperor? Martin would risk my whole city to gain a Great Sigil Stone?" she asked, eyebrows raised higher than I'd thought was humanly possible.

"Believe me, if he had any better ideas we'd be using those," I replied. "Unfortunately, we don't, and if we don't get that Great Sigil Stone, we won't be getting the Amulet of Kings back either, and Bruma's going to be overrun by Daedra anyway."

"This is the only way to stop this invasion from Oblivion? I must confess, you are the first person to speak of victory against these Daedra. This war has seemed hopeless to me, but what else was there to do but hold on and wait for a hero to arise to save us? And now it seems there is an heir to the throne after all, hidden at Cloud Ruler Temple... and perhaps a hero as well?"

"Whatever he is, Martin's waiting for you at the Chapel of Talos. You can see for yourself when we get there. If you're saying that you'll let us go ahead with our plan, that is."

"You avoid answering my question ... Very well. Don't think I doubt you. The rulers of Bruma have long had dealings with Cloud Ruler Temple. We know whom they serve. I will meet Martin at the Chapel. When all is ready, I will order my men to stop closing the Gates and prepare for battle."

I waited outside while Martin and the Countess met in the Chapel. It just… didn't seem like my place. I didn't belong in a building blessed by the Divines, surrounded by emperors and countesses; I got itchy just thinking about it. When they'd finished discussing what they needed to discuss, Martin pulled me aside.

"Our plan has been put in motion. When you're ready for battle, the Countess will order her men to stop closing the gates outside the city," he said. "From that point on, the fate of Bruma, and the world, rests on our shoulders."

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," I replied. "Just tell me what I need to do."

"We must allow the Mythic Dawn to proceed with their plan to open three lesser gates outside Bruma. Only then can they open a Great Gate, and unleash a siege machine to break down the walls of Bruma, much like they did at Kvatch. Once the gate opens, you'll have precious little time to reach its sigil stone before the siege machine fully deploys. You must act swiftly, or all is lost."

"So, just do what I've been doing, only faster?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"Let's get this over with, then."

\----------

What had brought Mathieu Bellamont to my private residence in Fort Farragut, I could only guess, but his decision to seat himself on my desk without the slightest regard for the decorum expected of a Silencer representing his Speaker led me to question the necessity of his impromptu visit. I couldn't speak for Belisarius Arius, but I knew I'd trained him better than that. However, I'd made the decision to recommend his promotion to the rest of the Black Hand, and supported his subsequent transfer to Anvil. It was no longer my place to govern his actions.

"I heard the most interesting rumor on my way here," Mathieu said, clearly in no hurry to divulge the reason behind his intrusion. "Resorting to whores now, are you? Don't tell me you've lost your touch."

"If you're referring to the newest member of our family, then yes. Though I would hardly consider bedding a recruit who has also gained the trust and love of the people of Cyrodiil, along with its future emperor, as 'losing my touch.' Is the Black Hand truly so desperate for gossip?"

"Not the Black Hand, just me. I stopped by the sanctuary for old time's sake, and had a chat with Ocheeva." Mathieu sniffed. "Still, I never took you for the 'garish hair dye' type. I take it wasn't his deathcraft that won you over..."

"Believe it or not, it's his natural hair color. And he has proven himself to be a more than capable addition to our family; he's risen through our ranks almost as fast as you and Maria did."

Mathieu stiffened upon hearing her name, drawing his hood down to cover his face. He had yet to recover from her loss, it seemed. "That's how it is, then. I don't blame you for going after a boy this time. Saves you the trouble of worrying about getting him in the family way, I suppose."

"Men who live in glass houses ought not to throw stones, Mathieu."

"Pardon?"

It seemed she'd met her demise before she had a chance to tell him, then. Yet another tragedy of her loss. "Maria was under the impression you'd gotten her with child at the time of her death."

"Don't lie to me. I saw the way you looked at her; I doubt I was responsible."

I sighed. It seemed I'd uncovered the cause of his insolence. He simply needed time to grieve; I had no need to send a complaint to Belisarius regarding his behavior. "I will acknowledge my attraction to her, but I can assure you it was not mutual. She rejected my advances. To the best of my knowledge, she remained loyal to you until the end."

Mathieu's shoulders slumped. "She… she was?"

"Yes."

"And she was carrying my child?"

"Most likely."

He sat in silence for a moment, shaking as he clenched the fabric of his robes in his hands. "I… I need to go, Speaker. You have given me much to think about." He got to his feet, swaying in a manner that wouldn't have looked out of place on a drunkard.

"Not just yet. Unless you came here just to insult my recruit, you had a task to carry out, did you not? What reason did Belisarius have to contact me?"

Mathieu reached into his robes, producing a sealed letter. "It's from the Listener. He thought it best if it came from someone familiar. Can I… Can I go, now? Please."

"You are dismissed. For what it's worth, I do apologize for your loss. Maria's death came as a shock to us all."

I broke the seal on the letter as the sound of Mathieu climbing the rope ladder attached to the trapdoor leading out of my home echoed throughout the chamber. I'd received such letters before, and knew well what they usually contained. As I unfolded the parchment, I braced myself for the condolences followed by inevitable news that I'd lost another member of my sanctuary. Remy, most likely. The Roderick contract had seemed like a stretch of his skills, and if the warlord's mercenaries hadn't killed him, his luck while closing Oblivion gates had to run out sooner or later. It was a shame, of course, and a loss the Dark Brotherhood could scarce afford with a traitor in its ranks, but such was the nature of our work.

The letter's true contents made me wish one of my assassins had merely met their demise. I read through it once more, certain I had simply misunderstood the Listener's orders the first time, but there was no mistaking his intent. The traitor had shown signs of having ties to Cheydinhal. My sanctuary was to be Purified. By my hand.

I gathered what few supplies I might require on the road, and set out for Bravil. At best, I could talk the Listener out of this stroke of madness. Given enough time, I was certain I could uncover the traitor hiding amongst my branch of the family without so much collateral damage. At worst, I'd at least have the satisfaction of hearing such a dark order from his own lips.


	15. Like an Emperor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a bear to write, and also ended up running obscenely long, but I think it's much better than its original version. The biggest changes I made here were heavily altering the narration on both the Great Gate and Gaiar Alata, hopefully making them a lot less clunky and vague than they used to be. I made some alterations to the dialogue at the end of the chapter, as well, as I felt that it got much too silly for the situation it occurs in in its original state.

I wished I shared Martin's confidence and enthusiasm as I watched him give a speech to the ragtag bunch of soldiers we'd amassed outside Bruma's walls. I couldn't even work up the courage to stand there next to him; I didn't have it in me to stand on a hillside and play hero to a too-small group of Blades and city guards, with the odd farmer or merchant mixed in, all stamping their feet to keep warm, when I knew there was a good chance not a single one of them would survive the day. And a better chance that I wouldn't survive the day, for that matter. A single Oblivion gate could churn out more than enough Daedra for us to handle, and with the three we'd need open to even have a chance at getting our hands on a Great Sigil Stone we'd be lucky if we weren't overrun within minutes.

I could feel my stomach trying to flip-flop its way out of my body at the mere thought of racing a daedric siege engine through a Great Gate. How Martin expected me to find my way through something that big in so little time was beyond me, and without knowing what the plane of Oblivion it would open into would look like, there was no planning for it. I'd just have to run in like the hordes of Oblivion were after me – which, once I'd gone through the gate, they would be – and hope for the best. Trying to manage keeping my mind off my laughably small odds of success along with putting on a brave face for a crowd of people staring at me would've made it impossible to keep what little food I had in me down. Hero of Kvatch or not, no one would've found the sight of a small, slight Dunmer puking his guts out on his future emperor's boots very inspiring. We were all better off with me skulking in the shadows, really.

When Martin had said his piece, I had another look at the soldiers we'd gathered, hoping to see at least one familiar face from the Dark Brotherhood among them, but it seemed like that request for aid had gone unheard. It made my heart sink a little, but I couldn't have said it surprised me. Desperate, heroic battles weren't the Dark Brotherhood's specialty, after all, even when their outcome would affect the guild as much as everyone else.

A tap on my shoulder startled me out of my thoughts, and I turned around to find Gogron and Telaendril standing behind me. Ocheeva had come through for me, after all. I'd have to thank her next time I visited the sanctuary.

"By the Nine, am I glad to see you." I could feel a smile spreading across my face so fast I was afraid it might sprain something. "I thought no one was coming."

"Did you really think we would abandon you in your time of need, brother? You're a part of our family; of course we came. We couldn't bring the entire sanctuary with us without arousing suspicion, though, now could we?" Telaendril asked. "My duties require me to spend much of my time outside the sanctuary, so my presence on the roads is nothing new, and it made sense for a wanderer such as myself to hire a bodyguard in such dangerous times. Gogron and I were your most logical siblings for the job. Isn't that right, love?"

"Of course," Gogron replied, teeth bared in a bloodthirsty grin. "I'd like to see any of our family members try to swing an axe through an army of Daedra like I can. Those bastards won't know what hit them!"

"I'm sure they won't," I said. "Thank you for coming. Both of you."

"This opportunity to watch my darling brute put his full strength to good use will be a delight." Telaendril reached up, grabbed one of Gogron's tusks, and pulled him in for a kiss. "Really, we should be thanking you."

I was too caught up in trying not to stare to give her any kind of response. I'd never have pegged Telaendril and Gogron as a couple. It seemed like an odd match, between the quiet patience she'd have needed for archery and Gogron's love of smashing things, but I couldn't deny that they looked good together. Maybe that old 'opposites attract' saying had something to it. I just hoped I hadn't signed their death warrants by dragging them into something so dangerous.

The bright flash of light accompanying the first Oblivion gate to open stopped me from dwelling on that for too long. As a small army of daedra began to pour out of it, we all ran off in separate directions to help out where we could, and I didn't see either of them for the rest of the battle.

The first wave of Daedra weren't hard to fend off, but a second one followed right on their heels, and a second gate opened up before even half of those had been dealt with. By the time the third gate opened, Bruma's defenders were tiring, and between soldiers getting torn to bits and what few volunteers we had running away, screaming, into the countryside, our numbers had thinned considerably when the Great Gate finally made its appearance. If Martin hadn't grabbed me and kept me practically glued to his side, surrounded by Blades, as soon as the fighting broke out in earnest, I don't know if I would've survived that far, myself. Never mind the siege machine; if I wasn't quick enough about shutting the gate, there wouldn't be a Bruma left for it to destroy, or an emperor left to kill. As soon as the Great Gate had finished actively spitting out daedra, I made a dash for it as fast as I could without losing my footing on the frozen, blood-soaked ground or crashing into any remaining soldiers or daedra, and threw myself through it.

The first thing I saw after getting to my feet on the gate's other side was a giant, black gate standing between me and its sigil tower. Just as I'd made up my mind to climb over it instead of looking for a way around, it swung open to reveal a battering ram the size of a house crawling its way forward on several sets of long, spindly legs across a thin, stone bridge spanning a lake of lava. Daedra of all kinds swarmed around and over it, like ants tending to their queen. I'd have no hope of sneaking by it unseen, but it was my quickest route to the tower. Unless I wanted to see what would happen if it crawled its way into Tamriel, I'd have to risk it. Martin, and the people of Cyrodiil, had decided to hold me up as their hero; it was time I started acting like one. Either the Daedra had orders to tend to their siege crawler before dealing with anything else, or most were too shocked at the sight of me running right past them, under the siege crawler's belly, to make any move to stop me, because most of them just marched right past me as I made my way across the bridge.

When I reached the sigil tower, I realized it didn't have a single door on its bottom floor, and connected to a ring of smaller towers around it with a maze of thin bridges, instead. Dagon hadn't made things easy on me, this time. I ran into the closest one I could find, hoping I hadn't chosen the longest route to the top. From that point on, my task turned into running up and down steep ramps and across narrow, crumbling walkways without a single guard rail, dodging the towers' resident daedra, who weren't near as content to let me pass by them as their brothers outside, all the while. I didn't respond to their attempts to fight me whenever I could avoid it, and I settled for just wounding the few I couldn't get past, leaving them lying on the ground with their shrieks echoing off the tower walls.

By the time I reached the sigil tower's top floor, I had a small army of daedra on my heels. Once I had the door shut behind me, I grabbed a cracked, well-chewed bone I hoped wasn't human off the floor and jammed it into the door's opening mechanism to buy myself a bit of extra time, then went looking for the sigil stone. It seemed like the deadra had left it unguarded until I came to the usual chamber filled with spiky, stone steps and flesh ramps and found a hulking, angry block of ice sitting right in my path. I had a Frost Atronach to contend with.

I hacked away at it until my arms went numb, but nothing I did had any effect on the damned thing. The chips of ice that flaked off every time I landed a hit on it were the only sign I had that I could even damage it, let alone kill it. Its attacks had plenty of effect on me, though, and it didn't take me long to realize that even if I had the time to whittle it down to size, my body wouldn't last half that long against its attempts to turn me into an ice statue.

Taking advantage of the fact that, even with half-frozen legs, I could run circles around the atronach, I ran up the last set of ramps standing between me and the Great Sigil Stone and snatched it out of the beam of light holding it in place. I wrapped my arms around it and held it close to my chest as the ground beneath my feet began to crumble, and the next thing I knew I was safe in Tamriel. Closing the Great Gate seemed to have done away with the smaller gates along with it, and I couldn't see a single live daedra. Bruma's defenders, or at least, what was left at them, had all turned to look at me, but instead of cheering, they started shouting and waving their arms, some of them pointing at the sky.

I looked up to find about half the siege crawler swaying on its feet above me, oozing some sort of black goo onto the ground from its middle where the Oblivion gate had sliced it neatly in two when it closed. I had just enough time to roll out from under it before its legs buckled, sending its heavy, stone body crashing to the patch of ground I'd stood on a heartbeat earlier. I picked myself up off the ground, dusting my armor off as best I could, and held the Great Sigil Stone in the air. Then the cheering started.

After a bit of looking around, I found Baurus holding up an injured, but alive Jauffre, and Gogron pressing a very happy Telaendril up against a singed tree. Martin stood apart from the rest of the crowd, a small smile on his face, and beckoned me over to him. Grateful that I hadn't lost anyone I knew personally, I picked my way through the human and daedric corpses spread across the battlefield between us and offered him the Great Sigil Stone.

"That was far too close for comfort… For a moment, I was afraid you wouldn't make it in time." Martin took the Great Sigil Stone and tucked it away in a belt pouch on his armor.

"What kind of story would it have made if I hadn't taken the stone at the last possible moment? No one wants to hear about how their hero skipped into an Oblivion gate, grabbed a shiny ball, and skipped right back out before any of the horrors inside could set foot in Tamriel, now do they? The bards wouldn't have a thing to put in their songs without a gigantic engine of death creeping its way into Tamriel to squish the last remaining Septim and his dashing errand boy into a fine paste. And as the best damn Septim who's ever lived, I thought you deserved the best songs I could get you," I replied. "Also, I had some troubles getting around an oversized, bloodthirsty ice block. Apparently Dagon finally realized Dunmer aren't very flammable and decided to change tactics on me."

"Glorious songs and dramatic timing or not, I'm glad to have you back in one piece. I don't care how good the tales would be; I'd never forgive myself if they were written about how I sent you to your death."

"I wouldn't relax just yet, if I were you. I'm sure there'll be plenty of chances for me to be remembered as a tragic hero when I'm in Camoran's Paradise. Or a particularly persistent and irritating obstacle on Dagon's glorious path to conquering Tamriel, depending on who ends up telling the story."

Martin sighed. "You're right. We have won a great victory here today, but we must act quickly if we are to recover the Amulet of Kings from Mankar Camoran. He will not take long to recognize this danger. Whenever you're ready, I'll prepare the ritual to send you to his Paradise in the Cloud Ruler Temple's great hall. If my translation of the Mysterium Xarxes is correct, the portal will close behind you. Anything you need, you'll have to carry with you."

"Actually, if you've got somewhere I can sharpen my dagger and patch up my armor, I'm ready to get the amulet back whenever you are." I hadn't come out of Oblivion too much the worse for wear; apart from a few scrapes, bruises, and rapidly-thawing cold spots, I felt fine, if a bit winded. I couldn't think of anything I'd want weighing me down in Camoran's Paradise that I didn't already have on me, anyway. Waiting around much longer would've just wasted time, at that point, and that seemed like a bad idea given the circumstances. "Give me a quick nap and a healing potion, and I'll be good as new.

"You should have plenty of time for that while I prepare the ritual. To think, in a few short hours, we'll have the means to put an end to this Oblivion madness within our grasp. It hardly feels real, like I've stepped into a waking dream."

"You can say that again. I never thought I'd get the first gate closed, let alone all of…" I gestured to the remains of Oblivion gates jutting out of the ground, "This. I guess we're lucky I seem to have a natural talent for not dying."

"The Nine chose their champion well, it seems. Let's not forget your impressive skill at not throttling priests who send you on fool's errands all over Cyrodiil, either."

"And believing everything that strange old men in prison cells tell me. That's important, too."

"And you've remained in remarkably good spirits for an unpaid, all-purpose errand boy through it all."

"Anything for my favorite emperor."

"I'd have thought you'd have more fondness for my father; he's the one who let you out of prison, after all. All I've done is try to get you killed for the past few months."

"That's exactly why he isn't my favorite; he's the one who gave me the damned amulet in the first place and dragged me into this mess. If it weren't for him, I could be all nice and cozy on my pile of straw in my nice, safe prison cell," I replied. "All you did was try to make the best of a bad situation. You will be forever remembered for your creative use of prostitutes, my friend."

"Won't that be an interesting chapter in the history books." Martin smiled, shaking his head. "Assuming the historians don't edit that part out when the time comes to record all of this."

"I'll have to stand behind them and start poking at them if they get things wrong, just in case."

We made the walk back to Cloud Ruler Temple together, then went our separate ways to make the preparations we needed for the task ahead of us. I dropped my dagger and armor off at the armory and left them with a pair of Blades kind enough to offer to take care of them for me, helped myself to a few extra healing potions, along with a snack of a hunk of bread and bottle of mead, from the storeroom, and set up a bedroll by the fireplace in the great hall to get what rest I could before Martin finished getting his ritual together.

After what felt like only a few minutes later, Martin shook me awake. Someone had placed my dagger and armor beside me in a neat little pile, looking as good as they ever had. I dragged myself out of bed and got to work getting all my gear reattached to me, blinking the sleep out of my eyes as I had a look around the room. Judging by the collection of items sitting on a giant symbol drawn in chalk that took up most of the floor, it seemed like we were ready to break into Camoran's Paradise.

"I have everything in place for the ritual. I'll open the portal whenever you're ready," Martin said. "I don't know what you'll find in Camoran's Paradise, but I do know that the portal I create through the Mysterium Xarxes will close behind you. You'll have to find your own way back. I believe that Mankar Camoran acts as the 'anchor' for Paradise, just as a sigil stone anchors and Oblivion gate in place. If my hypothesis is correct, killing him should unmake his Paradise, and send you back to Tamriel in the same way that removing a sigil stone destroys its Oblivion gate."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then you have my sincerest apologies. I wouldn't ask this of you if we had another choice." Martin frowned, furrowing his brow. "That being said, if anyone could find way out of Oblivion without a gate, I have every confidence that it would be you. You are somewhat of a special case, after all. Are you still willing and ready to perform this final task?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied.

"Good. I'll need you to stand at the center of the sigil," Martin said. When I'd gotten myself into position, he continued, "Farewell, my friend. Our fate is in your hands. Brace yourself."

With that, he opened the Mysterium Xarxes and read something I couldn't have pronounced, let alone understood, that made the air around me crackle with enough magic to make my hair stand on end. The artifacts I'd gathered for him shook, then lifted themselves into the air. They spun around me, faster and faster, until I couldn't tell which was which anymore, and when Martin stopped reading, everything exploded into a flash of white light.

When the light faded, instead of Cloud Ruler Temple, I found myself standing at the start of a stone path in the nicest garden I'd ever seen. For a while I just stood there, wondering if I'd ended up in the wrong plane of Oblivion somehow. Then a man wearing nothing but a pair of tattered pants ran by, with a pair of scamps after him, nipping at his heels, and put that worry to rest.

As I took my first steps down the path, Mankar Camoran's voice rang out from somewhere inside my head, congratulating me on reaching Paradise and giving me directions to his palace. It all sounded too much like a trap for my liking, but I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter at that point, so down the path I went. At first, it really wasn't much different than the other Oblivion gates I'd shut, aside from having to hide behind trees and flowerbeds instead of rocks and… more rocks, and the daedra inside it tearing apart Camoran's followers instead of decent people. Honestly, not having anyone else to keep safe made it easier, and Camoran's followers made for great distractions, especially since they'd just poof back into existence every time they died. Served them right, really. What had they thought a man who wanted to take over the world would do with his pawns once he'd finished playing with them?

The path came to an end at a rocky hillside with a door carved into it, guarded by a massive dremora. He caught sight of me before I could duck out of sight, and after an almost friendly conversation, he gave me a choice between carrying out a task for him or fighting him in exchange for a pair of armbands I'd need if I wanted to make it any farther into Paradise. I took a third option and agreed to help him, then stabbed him in the back through one of the fleshy bits of his armor when he turned around to go back to his door. After unhooking the armbands I'd needed from his belt, I let myself into the caverns he'd been guarding until I finally reached a door I couldn't open.

Putting on the armbands unlocked it well enough, but they came with the nasty side effect of making the rest of my armor disappear, and I couldn't get them off once I'd stepped through the door and it had slammed shut behind me. Wandering through a lava-filled cavern in my underthings sounded like about as much fun as eating a bowl of broken glass, but the only way to go was forward, so forward I went. I'd just have to get creative. No matter how much of a fool I made of myself, at least no one I knew would ever know.

When my best chance at getting through the caverns turned out to be a regretful Mythic Dawn agent by the name of Eldamil, whose only plan involved sticking me in a cage and pretending to lower me into a pool of lava, I was doubly glad no one in Tamriel could see me. Aside from a few hairy moments when I thought he might burn me alive for real, he turned out to be a damn good friend to have in that place, and I doubt I'd have ever gotten the armbands off without him, much less found my way out of those caverns. Even with him, I didn't have an easy time of it; my skin and throat felt drier than a desert wind, the hot floors burned my feet, and my hair caught fire at one point. By the time we made it out on the other side, just getting my armor back and having a chance to sit down and rub a healing potion on my feet was enough for me. Finding myself just a stone's throw away from Camoran's palace would've meant less to me than finding a septim on the ground, if I hadn't wanted to kill him so badly. His smug little speech about how thrilled he was I'd made it so far reminded me of that all too well.

Camoran sent his children out to bring us inside, like I'd come for a tea party instead of the Amulet of Kings. I assumed he'd gone out of his mind when he tried to give another speech instead of attacking me when we finally met face to face, and tried to put him out of his misery by stabbing him before he could finish talking. He stepped out of the way at the last minute and ran up a flight of stairs, laughing all the while.

I followed him as soon as I'd dug my dagger out of the back of his throne, but he threw a shock spell at me and slipped past me again before I could take another swipe at him. In the end, I won mostly by accident. He'd shocked me, frozen me, and set me on fire more times than I could count, to the point I could barely keep standing. Then, just as he'd opened his mouth to taunt me, his foot caught on his robe, and he stumbled a little. Just long enough for me to reach him with my dagger before he could regain his footing, and it was over. I had just enough time to snatch the amulet off his corpse before his palace started crumbling around me, and Tamriel snatched me back home. Cloud Ruler Temple had never looked so good.

Martin, wearing a set of robes almost exactly like the ones his father had on when I'd met him, just stared at me, his face twisted into an expression somewhere between happiness and shock. "You found a way back! Does this mean…"

"It has to, doesn't it? Camoran's dead."

"You did it. You defeated him. Then you have it… you have the Amulet of Kings?"

"That I do." I offered it to him. "It's yours. Should've been yours a long time ago, really."

"Belongs to me? The Amulet of Kings? So you and Jauffre have said. If it is true, if the emperor really was my father, then I should be able to wear it; only those of the Septim bloodline can."

"Try it on, then. Don't keep yourself waiting, it'll only make things worse."

"Yes, of course. What am I waiting for? After all, this is my destiny. No man can deny his destiny." Martin reached out and took the amulet, hands shaking, and fastened it around his neck. When he let go of the clasp, it stayed there, sparkling in the firelight. There was no denying he was Cyrodiil's rightful emperor now. "I suppose I didn't really need the amulet to tell me this… I've known it was true since you first told me back in Kvatch. But it is one thing to talk of becoming emperor, and quite another to actually be the emperor."

I shrugged. "You look like an emperor to me. Just like your father, only a bit cleaner. It's hard to keep robes like that looking good while fleeing from assassins, I guess."

"Whatever I may look like, I'm not emperor yet. Until we light the Dragonfires, the Oblivion gates remain open, and Mehrunes Dagon's invasion continues. While you were gone, I sent a messenger to High Chancellor Ocato. He waits for us in the Imperial City."

"Why do we have to talk to that stuffy old seatwarmer?" I asked, already cringing at the memory of my last meeting with him.

"Because he is the head of the Elder Council, and therefore the empire's ruler in the absence of an emperor. I don't expect any objections to my taking the throne from the Elder Council, but we should defer to their authority, nonetheless. If you're fit to travel, we should leave at once, before the enemy can recover from Mankar Camoran's death."

"All right. Though it may be best if I get cleaned up first. Wouldn't want him fainting from my heroic stench, after all."

"Of course. We'll leave as soon as you've made yourself presentable. I'll be waiting for you outside."


	16. Lighting the Dragonfires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest change I made to this chapter was adding a completely new scene between Lucien and Ungolim at the end (which, chronologically, takes place about three quarters of the way through the Remy POV section of this chapter, but inserting it there would have thrown off the flow of the narrative). I tried to keep Ungolim as in-character as possible, but considering that he has almost no dialogue in the game itself, I didn't have much to work with, so his characterization is mostly guesswork. I ended up adding a fair bit of detail that was sorely lacking in this chapter's original version, as well, and I hope that it's a much more interesting read for it.

The ride back to the Imperial City passed in near total silence, with Martin and I both too lost in our own heads to even try to start up a conversation. I couldn't have begun to imagine what he must have been going through, sitting there with the weight of a whole empire about to get dropped on his shoulders. I know I'd never have managed it with a straight face and my head held high. Gods, just trying to figure out what I wanted to do with myself once this Oblivion mess had ended had me overwhelmed.

Sure, I'd still have the Dark Brotherhood, but I doubted they'd give me enough contracts to fill all my time. I didn't know if I would have wanted to spend all my time on them, if I could have. Assassin work was all well and good, but I'd probably need a break from it every now and again to keep it from getting stale. Which probably meant spending all my spare time at the Arena wouldn't keep me satisfied, either. And after everything I'd gone through in the past few months, spending my days lazing about the Waterfront outside of my working hours would've just felt empty and pointless. Life was going to get boring once Martin stopped needing my help.

After the longest several hours of my life, we saw Imperial City's walls and the top of the White-Gold Tower standing at its center from the safety of the bridge leading to its main gate. From there, only a short walk stood between us and the palace, High Chancellor Ocato accepting Martin as the rightful emperor, Martin relighting the Dragonfires, and everyone living happily ever after. If anyone tried to give us trouble, they'd have to go through the entire city guard first; at that point, I didn't see what Martin could've possibly needed someone like me for.

The palace guards scowled at me as we passed, probably in memory of what happened the last time they let me through. They didn't try to stop me, though, and Martin and I made it to the council chamber where Ocato was waiting for us without any trouble.

Martin paused just outside the door. "By ancient tradition, I may not present myself as a candidate for the throne. I need you to formally present my claim to Chancellor Ocato."

"Are you sure I'm the best person to do this? My last meeting with him didn't exactly end well…"

"What happened?"

"He couldn't send any aid to Bruma, and I may have shouted at him and called him a milk drinker. He threw me out. I probably deserved it."

"That does sound like something you'd do." Martin smiled, shaking his head. "I suppose that explains the looks the guards were giving you. I'm sure everything will go well. He's deciding whether he wants to make me emperor, not you, and he's likely been called worse over the course of his career."

"If you're sure…" I took a deep breath, then let myself into the council chamber.

I found Ocato standing beside the temple at the chamber's center, pacing between two of the pillars holding its ceiling up. "I have been expecting you," he said. "The full council has considered Martin's claim to the Imperial Throne in detail."

With that, he brushed past me and beckoned Martin in. "Martin Septim, on behalf of the Elder Council, I accept your claim to the Imperial Throne. We should arrange the coronation ceremony as soon as-"

A guard barreled into the room, shouting, "Chancellor Ocato! The city is under attack! Oblivion gates have opened, and daedra are inside the walls! The guard is overwhelmed!"

"Courage soldier, we have an emperor again," Ocato said. "Your Highness, what are your orders? She the guard fall back to the palace?"

"No. If we let ourselves get besieged in the palace, we're doomed. We must get to the Temple of the one immediately," Martin replied.

"As you command. Guards! Form up and protect the emperor! To the Temple of the One!"

"Mehrunes Dagon knows that if I can reach the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires, he has lost. We've no time to waste. Come on!" Martin grabbed me by the arm and half-dragged me out of the palace behind him.

Outside, the sky had gone red, and the palace courtyard was swarming with daedra. With the help of the guards and Ocato, who was damn good with healing spells and fireballs for a politician, we fought our way through to the Temple District, but it looked like all our efforts had been for nothing. Mehrunes Dagon himself had broken into Tamriel, and had plonked himself down right between us and the doors to the Temple of the One.

Martin fell to his knees and ran a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers in his strands and pulling at it, his face contorted in anguish. "We're too late… Mehrunes Dagon is here! Lighting the Dragonfires will no longer save us… the barriers that protected us from Oblivion are gone…"

"There must be some way we can force him back into Oblivion, right?" I asked, my voice barely more than a squeak. I coughed, trying to dislodge the rest of it from wherever it had gotten stuck in my throat, put my hands on his shoulders, and gave him a good shake. "We didn't come all this way to give up now, did we? I know I'm not about to just lay down and die after all the hell you've put me through."

"I don't see how… mortal weapons may hurt him, but now that he is physically here in Tamriel, they have no power to actually destroy him."

"What about the Amulet of Kings? It's got to be able to do something, right?"

Martin shook his head, opened his mouth to say something, then just… stopped. His eyes went wide, mouth curling into a crazed half-smile, and he got to his feet, shoulders squared. "Wait. Yes. The Amulet was given to mortals by Akatosh… it contains His divine power… But how to use this power against Dagon? The amulet was not intended as a weapon, but perhaps… I have an idea. One last hope. I must reach the Dragonfires in the Temple of the One."

"Great. What's the plan once we get there?"

"You'll just have to trust me. I now know what I was born to do. But I'll need your help. I have to get past Mehrunes Dagon, somehow."

"So, we're going to give the Dragonfires a try, after all?"

"Something like that," Martin replied, his mouth set in a grim line.

"All right. I'll get you into that temple, one way or another."

"Thank you. From there, I'll do the rest. We might still have a chance at this. He can't have planned for me to have a Daedric Prince of my own at my side; perhaps you'll catch him unawares."

"We aren't exactly the same thing, you know." I looked up at Dagon, saw the way he towered over the Imperial City's tallest buildings, throwing his head back in laughter as he stepped on a guard, and felt myself go weak in the knees. "For starters, I don't have a fancy giant form I can stomp around in." Still, the comparison did give me an idea. Probably a stupid one, and more likely to get me killed than actually work, but it was better than running at Dagon and stabbing at his ankles with a dagger.

I reached behind me, felt the Wabbajack still strapped to my back, and undid the knots holding it in place. I ran down the street and stopped as close to Dagon as I dared, pointed the Wabbajack at him, and hoped for the best as I gave it a wave. A beam of red light shot out of it, just like the last time I'd used it, and hit Dagon right in the chest. At least I hadn't needed to worry about missing my target.

The Wabbajack started shaking in my hands as the beam of light grew brighter and brighter, but Dagon didn't look like he'd even felt it. Before long, the shaking had grown almost hard enough to yank the Wabbajack out of my hands, and it had started to crack. Just as I was about to lose my grip on it, the beam of light brightened one last time, and the Wabbajack exploded into a shower of glittery dust. Dagon looked down at me, smiled, and raised his foot over my head. As he lowered his foot, he opened his mouth to laugh, but all that came out was a small bleating noise.

I was almost as surprised as Dagon when his giant, red body shrank down, sprouting clumps of white, curly hair all the while, until he looked like nothing more than a red-skinned, angry sheep. While he stood there, blinking in confusion, Martin dashed past me into the Temple of the One, and I followed right behind him.

Martin breathed a sigh of relief once we were both safely inside, barring the doors behind us. "That's a useful trick."

"Too bad I can only do it once. I doubt it's permanent, though. Let's get this plan of yours into action before Dagon unsheeps himself."

Martin give me a sad little smile, then pulled me in for a hug. "I do only what I must do. What, I see now, I was always meant to do. I cannot stay to rebuild Tamriel. That task falls to others. You've been a good friend, in the short time that I've known you, but now I must go. The Dragon waits."

He tried to pull away from me, but I grabbed his arm. "No! You can't die!" I dug my nails into his robe like my life depended on it. "There must be a better way; the empire needs you!"

"There is no other way, Remy. If I don't do this, all of Tamriel will fall. One life seems more than a fair price for the whole of the world."

"But it shouldn't be yours! This is all my fault; I let Camoran escape with the Amulet of Kings in the first place. If anyone should die here, it's me, not you." Tears welled up in my eyes. If I hadn't run off to join the Dark Brotherhood, maybe I could have found Camoran in time to stop him from escaping to his Paradise. Martin didn't deserve to die for my mistakes. I'd ruined everything.

"You did all you could do, and more than I could have asked of you. Now please, let me go. Honor my sacrifice."

"But you don't understand, I-"

Martin sighed, and shushed me before I could finish. "Whatever it is you've done, I forgive you. But it's time for you to let go, now. I'm sorry it had to happen this way, but you leave me no other choice." He gave me one last small, sad smile, then muttered something and put his hand on my chest. His palm glowed for a moment, then sent out a burst of magic that sent me staggering back a few steps. Once I'd regained my footing, I tried to reach out to him again, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't force myself to move. He'd even paralyzed my voice. Helpless, I watched as he ran to the center of the Temple, tore the Amulet of Kings from his neck, and threw it to the ground, shattering it.

The amulet gave off a blinding flash of light as it hit the ground. When it cleared, a giant, flaming dragon stood in the place I'd last seen Martin. Mehrunes Dagon put his fists through the Temple ceiling a heartbeat later, sending it tumbling to the floor in pieces. The dragon shrieked, spread its wings, and leaped at him, claws extended. I watched them grapple and tear at each other for what felt like hours, still held in place by Martin's spell as more of the Temple came crashing down around me. Dagon put up a good fight, but in the end, even he was no match for the power of a Divine. He left himself unguarded for just the smallest of moments, and the dragon pinned him to the ground, closing its jaws around his throat. After one last, throaty gurgle, he vanished, I heard the sound of Oblivion gates crumbling outside the Temple, and the red sky cleared to a calm, starry night. The dragon made its final flight back into the temple, threw its head back, and let out a satisfied roar as it turned to stone. Martin was gone, with only a statue and a shattered amulet for the world to remember him by.

I had no choice but to stay there, surrounded by a shrine to my failure, waiting for the paralysis to wear off. Eventually, the doors opened and Ocato walked through. I can't imagine what he must have thought of me, frozen, my mouth hanging open, and covered in glitter from the Wabbajack explosion, but he kept a straight face as he walked over to me and cast a spell that let me move again.

"What happened? Where's Martin?" he asked. "I must congratulate him! His quick thinking cast Mehrunes Dagon back into Oblivion, and won Tamriel's future back."

"He's… He's gone." The words sounded so strange, so wrong, rolling off my tongue, but that didn't make them any less true. Somehow, saying it out loud made losing him feel worse. There must have been another way; if I'd just tried harder to stop him…

"What do you mean, gone? I saw the Temple dome explode, the avatar of Akatosh appear… that was Martin?"

I nodded. "He shattered the amulet, and then… You saw the rest." If I'd gotten the things we needed to reach Paradise just a bit faster, or if we'd gone straight to the Temple of the One instead of visiting Ocato first, maybe we could have made it in time. Gods, why hadn't we walked faster, or pushed our horses harder?

"The joined blood of kings and gods. The Amulet of Kings. The divine power of Akatosh." Ocato shuddered. "Just the thought of unleashing that much power, what it would to do whoever absorbed it… Martin really is gone…"

"He is… At least his death meant something. Tamriel is safe now. Dagon lost. The Oblivion gates are sealed."

"Yes. Sealed forever. Mehrunes Dagon and his ilk can never threaten Tamriel again. Martin is dead, but he died an emperor, and a hero to rival Tiber Septim. His legacy will live on in the lives he has saved, and those who were lucky enough to know him." I must've looked miserable, like a kicked puppy, because he added a hasty, "I highly doubt that this was your fault. Destiny can be a cruel, fickle thing at times… If nothing else, working with Uriel Septim for so many years taught me that much. It's best that we mortals not dwell on the grand schemes of the Divines."

"Thanks." I sighed. Small comfort that it was, I doubted I'd get much more. It wasn't as though I could just confess my sins to the head of the Elder Council to find out whether things were my fault for certain. And, well… Even if he hadn't let me speak, Martin had forgiven me, and he was the only noble whose opinion mattered to me. I didn't see much sense in spending the rest of my life kicking myself for things I couldn't change. He probably wouldn't have wanted that, anyway. And if the Divines were really the sort to plan the death of someone like Martin, maybe this Daedric Prince business had some merit to it, after all. "I, uh… I'm sorry I called you a milk drinker."

Ocato raised an eyebrow at me, his mouth twitching into what might have almost been a smile. "And I apologize for having you thrown out of the palace. It seems that neither of us were at our best that day."

"So, what happens now?"

"This victory is not without cost. We've lost the last of the Septim line. What an emperor he might have made… His sacrifice, while necessary, leaves the empire without an emperor, for the first time in centuries. Truly, I do not know what will happen under circumstances such as these. There are troubled times ahead of the empire." Ocato sighed, then clapped his hands together. "But now is not the time to worry about the future. Let us simply give thanks that we're alive. In the meantime, in my capacity as Lord High Chancellor of the Elder Council, I hereby proclaim you Champion of Cyrodiil! Carry the title with pride."

"As nice as the title is, I don't suppose you'd be able to offer me any pay for this?" I knew it was a long shot, but I figured it was worth a try.

"In septims, no. The cost of recovery from the destruction Dagon's invasion has wrought on Tamriel will put enough strain on the treasury as it is. However, as a small token of gratitude for your service to the empire, I shall have a suit of Imperial Dragon armor made for you; I'll have you informed when it's ready for you to pick up. It is normally worn only by the emperor himself, but Cyrodiil's Champion deserves no less. It is a high honor; only six other Champions have been awarded in the history of the empire."

"Thanks for the honor, then. I just hope it comes in a light version, or you're going to end up with a somewhat immobile Champion."

"I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be going. As you know, the empire isn't going to run itself," Ocato replied, picking his way through the rubble covering the Temple's floor and letting himself out through what was left of the doors.

I spent the next couple of weeks in the Imperial City, helping clear out all the rubble and corpses Dagon and his minions had left behind to try and keep my mind off things. The work wasn't easy, but someone usually handed out free food at the end of the day, and for the first time in months, I got a decent amount of sleep every night. Whenever I had a moment or two to spare, I usually spent it telling curious people about Martin, and how he turned into a dragon statue, or entering an Arena match to get out of talking about Martin, and how he turned into a dragon statue. I realized things might have gotten a bit out of hand when I found myself sitting on a Champion rank in the Arena, and couldn't enter any more matches unless I felt like taking my chances against the Grey Prince, an Orc easily twice my size. I needed to get out of the public eye for a while, at least until all the fuss had a chance to die down and everyone found someone new to talk about. One night, on a whim, I stopped by the Temple of the One and sat by Martin's statue for a while, looking up at it as I tried to figure out what to do with myself. I got an answer, of sorts, to that question when someone sat down beside me.

"Hello, Remy. It's been far too long since any of us have seen you, brother," Antoinetta Marie's voice scolded. She gave my ponytail a tug, and I turned to her to find her giving me puppy eyes, her lips pursed in a cute little pout. "We've missed you."

"Sorry. I've been a bit busy, lately." I gestured to the statue above us. "It's good to see you, though. What brings you to the Imperial City?"

"I had a contract nearby, and I wanted to see for myself if all the stories about what happened here were true, since somebody hadn't come back to the sanctuary so I could ask him about it, yet."

"Well, here it is. You can't get much better proof than that."

Antoinetta smiled. "I was hoping I might run into you, too. There have been the most awful rumors going around about how you might be dead. I mean, everyone in the Dark Brotherhood knows you aren't; if you were, our Speaker would have told us about it by now, but it's still hard not to worry about these things a little…"

"I'm fine, Antoinetta. You've got nothing to worry about." I put an arm around her shoulder. Seeing a friendly face had done me good; it felt like she'd lifted a weight off my shoulders just by being there. Maybe I hadn't given the Dark Brotherhood enough credit when I'd written it off as only having contracts to offer me. "If you've got the time, why don't we go out and have a drink or two?"

"That sounds lovely."

A couple hours later, I ended up peeling Antoinetta off the Bloated Float's floor after she'd tried to do a drunken, one-armed handstand on an empty wine bottle. If I'd known she'd had such a low tolerance for alcohol, I would've suggested a nice game of cards, instead. I just hoped I wouldn't get either of us in trouble bringing her back to the sanctuary in that state. It wasn't like I had much choice in the matter, after all. I couldn't very well leave her to find her own way home, abandoning her in a room at an inn somewhere would've felt wrong, and I didn't have a big enough bed in my shack on the Waterfront for us to share it without things getting uncomfortable.

"Let's get you home now, shall we?" I asked as I half-dragged her out of the inn.

"No, I dun wanna go back yet…" Antoinetta slumped against me, resting her head on my shoulder. "Let'sh go 'ave some more fun."

"I think you've had enough fun, already." I nudged her off me, and tried to get her standing on her own two feet again.

"Dun be like that." Antoinetta flopped onto me again, planting a kiss just to the right of my nose that she'd probably meant for my lips. "We can have lots more fun together…"

"Come on, you can't be up for that if you can hardly stand. It wouldn't be fun for either of us right now. Let's just get you back to the sanctuary, and you can take a nice nap, instead."

"You're just sayin' that 'cause of Lucien, aren't you? It'sh no fair; he always gets the pretty ones."

I sighed. I didn't have anything against the thought of fooling around with Antoinetta – she was pretty, soft, and used a nice enough perfume - but I couldn't have said I really wanted to, either. And us trying anything like right then would've just felt wrong, like I'd taken advantage of her. She was a good friend; she deserved better than that. Even if she'd been sober, she deserved better than someone who was only halfway interested in her. Lucien, and whatever I had with him, had nothing to do with it. Well, maybe it helped explain why I couldn't see her as anything more than a friend and didn't find her near as attractive as I should have, but he hadn't played any part in the rest of it. "No, I'm saying it because you're a good friend, and I don't want to ruin that."

"Meanie."

It took some doing, but I finally got her to the city stables. "Did you bring a horse with you?"

"Nope."

"Looks like we'll be sharing mine, then." I hoisted her onto the saddle and climbed on behind her.

The ride to Cheydinhal took longer than usual, what with my horse carrying twice the weight it usually did and me having to keep Antoinetta from falling off the whole way, and the sun had risen by the time we reached the city gates. I got her into the sanctuary without drawing too much attention from the guards along the way, though we'd had to use the front door instead of going in through the well. After that, I gave her a nudge toward the living quarters and went to see if Ocheeva had any new contracts for me.

\----------

I found Ungolim seated beside his fireplace, cradling a goblet of wine in one hand and turning a piece of what was probably his latest victim on a spit with the other. His relaxed posture and common, unarmored clothing, paired with the fact that he'd hung his bow on a rack on the other side of the room, gave an impression of ease and relaxation. Strong enough to catch the casual observer of their guard, but a mere impression, nonetheless. The rings he wore gave off the telltale glimmer of strong enchantments, no doubt paired with an equally powerful amulet tucked under his shirt, and I could detect the hint of at least three concealed daggers outlined in his sleeves. He gave no obvious sign of surprise at my arrival, but that was to be expected of a man blessed with the direct guidance of the Night Mother herself. All the better. The Listener was not the type of man one was likely to survive startling.

He sighed, abandoning his roast in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose, as though trying to fend off a migraine. "Well, it seems I've lost that bet; there'll be no living with J'Ghasta after this… Do I even need to ask what brings you here, Lachance?"

"Would I request clarification on anything less than orders to terminate every assassin under my command?"

"I am sorry for your loss, truly, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and the traitor has made this a desperate time for us, indeed. I have compelling evidence that the traitor resides in Cheydinhal, and we do not have the time to investigate each of you assassins individually. If the traitor realizes we've found them, they could slip through our fingers, and cause untold damage before we had a chance to catch them again. We must act quickly, and decisively. The Black Hand voted unanimously on this matter; Purification is our only choice."

I took a deep breath, and counted to ten before replying. Openly displaying my frustration would do nothing to further my cause. "I have no recollection of such a vote."

"You were excluded, naturally. It would hardly be fair to expect a Speaker to vote for the destruction of his own sanctuary, after all."

"And if the traitor is not a resident of my sanctuary, and your efforts prove to be misguided?"

"Then may Sithis have mercy on us all."

"Is there no way I can convince you to stay your hand in this? If I have truly given shelter to a traitor, I will gladly cause them such suffering that death looks like a mercy in comparison. Simply allow me an opportunity to narrow our list of suspects." Losing a single assassin, particularly a traitorous one, I could manage. Losing one or two more, if I couldn't pin down a single suspect, would still leave me something to rebuild from, at least. The loss of an entire sanctuary, however, would cripple more than just Cheydinhal; the Dark Brotherhood as a whole would suffer from losing a fifth of its strength in one fell swoop. Surely, the Listener would see the reason in trying to keep our collateral damage to a minimum.

"Who is it you find suspicious, then?"

"As of yet, no one, but-"

Ungolim shook his head. "Then I cannot help you. If the traitor has eluded you thus far, I have no choice but to conclude that they will continue to do so. Cheydinhal is tainted beyond salvation."

"Is there truly not a single one of them who is above suspicion?" Just one, it didn't matter which, would be enough. Something to start anew with, once the dust had settled, to serve as a reminder that I had tried, and my efforts had not been in vain. He would allow me at least that much; he had to.

Ungolim was silent for a moment, tapping his fingertips together. "Your newest recruit, I suppose, did join us well after the traitor's first kill. But considering the irregularity of his work habits, and his frequent disappearances, he would have had plenty of opportunity to commit the later murders."

"Frequent as his absences are, they are well documented. Cyrodiil is filled to the brim with witnesses, including its counts, countesses, and the head of the Elder Council, who can verify his claims that he spent that time preventing the end of the world as we know it. And, as our business model is somewhat dependent on the existence of Tamriel, I, at least, am willing to pardon his irregular work schedule."

"If I were to allow you to spare him, how do you plan to explain the deaths of every other assassin in your sanctuary to him? It might be better to transfer him to another sanctuary, at which point you'll be in much the same place as you would if you killed him."

"I could make him my Silencer. It's past time I chose another, is it not?" Remy wouldn't be a terrible choice. He had potential, though ideally I'd have given him at least another year or two to… refine said potential before extending such an offer to him. As Ungolim had said, however, desperate times called for desperate measures.

"You're certain he's reliable enough for the position?"

"The Oblivion Crisis has ended. I see no reason why he wouldn't devote himself fully to our family, now that he has no other obligations."

"All right, then. If he can prove his worth, I will welcome his presence in the Black Hand. I assigned you to the Phillida contract, yes? Give it to him, instead. If he survives, I see no reason to doubt his skill. As for his loyalty, should you still have confidence in his ability to serve as your Silencer, allow him to carry out the Purification in your stead, as a test of his willingness to follow your orders. If he proves to be controllable, I will have no reason to question his loyalty any further. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes, Listener. I appreciate your… generosity."

"Good. May Sithis go with you, brother."

"And with you."


	17. Whodunit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has come to my attention that I've forgotten to keep this story up to date on this site, so please enjoy having five new chapters dumped on you at once. The biggest change I made to this chapter was rewriting almost the entire "Whodunit" quest, so I'm hoping it has a bit more presence this time around. I made some minor tweaks to the dialogue, as well, because the original version felt a bit choppy in places. Also, things get a bit stranger than usual this chapter, for reasons that will be apparent to anyone familiar with the sequel to this.

Ocheeva gave me a warm smile as I walked into her room. "Ah, so you've finally decided to return to your family. Good; I have a time-sensitive contract in mind for you that you almost missed your window of opportunity on."

"That's great. I take it everything went all right with my last contract, then?" I asked. Switching Roderick's medicine for a bottle of poison felt like it had happened in another life, not just a few short weeks ago. Accepting a contract without worrying about how I'd fit it in with stopping the Oblivion Crisis would feel strange.

"Yes, of course. You infiltrated Fort Sutch, and remained undetected while doing so. Roderick met his death the next day, and to his mercenaries, it was the result of nothing more than succumbing to his illness. It pleases me greatly to offer you your reward, and your well-earned bonus." She handed me a bag of septims and what looked like a bundle of clothing. "You have been granted the honor of possessing the Deceiver's Finery, and its power to sway the minds of the unwary. It will help you greatly on your next contract, should you choose to accept it."

"I can't see any reason I wouldn't. It'd be a shame to let my bonus go to waste." I took another look at the clothing she'd given me. It was a dark burgundy color, and I could just make out a bit of gold stitching and what might have been fur trim tucked away in its folds. I'd never owned anything so fancy before; hopefully, I wouldn't stain it.

"Do you like parties? Because you've been invited to one. Of course, you'll be killing all the other guests. Will you attend?"

"I'm always ready for a party."

"Splendid. You must travel to the city of Skingrad, and the large house known as Summitmist Manor. There you will meet up with five very unlucky guests. In order to receive your bonus you must kill each guest secretly, one by one. Our client wishes for their last moments to be enveloped in confused suspicion and the bitter taste of fear. If anyone succeeds in identifying you as the murderer in their midst, the bonus is forfeit.

The guests believe there is a chest of gold hidden in the house, and have agreed to be locked inside until one of them finds it. In fact, they believe that the key to the manor is inside the chest, and only by satisfying their greed will they be allowed to leave. Poor fools. There is, of course, no chest of gold. The guests will find no key. After you arrive, the doors will be locked behind you, as everyone suspects. When all the guests lie dead, you will be free to leave. Now go, see the doorman at Summitmist Manor. He will explain the rest."

"This is all a bit… complicated, isn't it?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around all the instructions she'd given me. Contracts were always more fun when they had more to them than just going somewhere and killing someone, but I just couldn't see why whoever wanted all their "party guests" dead had gone to so much trouble to make sure it happened a certain way. They wouldn't even be there to see it happen; what point did getting all of them together in the same house for a fake treasure hunt serve? It seemed like a simple knife in the back would've been just as effective, really, with a lot less ways for it to go wrong.

"Each guest, at some point in the past, wronged their mysterious host. Now he's hired us to exact his revenge," Ocheeva replied. "It is not our place to comment on the manner of execution he has chosen, so long as he provides coin to sustain our family and souls to sustain our Dread Father."

"Fair enough. When do I need to be at this party of his?"

"The festivities are scheduled to begin tomorrow afternoon. Considering the time-sensitive nature of the pretense our client has used to gather your victims there, I would advise against arriving fashionably late."

"I probably shouldn't linger, then." I put a hand on the door to the sanctuary's main room, and half-turned its handle. "Hopefully, I'll see you again soon."

"Farewell, my brother. Do try to have fun. It's not every day a contract like this comes along. Our Speaker has left orders for your next assignment, and…" She went quiet for a moment, her mouth curled into a small frown, and the tip of her tail gave a nervous twitch. Then she sighed, shook her head, and her smile came back, as bright and motherly as ever. "Well, I think it's only fair that we allow you to ease back into the family with something lighthearted before tending to more serious matters."

"Will do." I turned the door handle the rest of the way, and let myself out of Ocheeva's room. Whatever she had in store for my next contract had me more than a little worried, if it was enough to put her on edge, but I didn't see much sense in making a fuss over it when she hadn't even assigned it to me yet. I'd cross that bridge when I came to it; if I didn't focus on Summitmist Manor for the time being, I'd have real problems to worry about, and those were riskier than anything my imagination could come up with.

I knew I'd need to get my things together and be on my way to Skingrad before too long, but, at that moment, I was just too exhausted to do much of anything. After a couple weeks of proper sleep, my body wasn't used to staying up all night anymore. I could practically hear the beds in the sanctuary living quarters calling my name, so I dragged myself through the door and down the steps leading to them, and flopped down on the first empty one I saw. With any luck, Antoinetta wouldn't remember a thing about what happened earlier, and we'd both be spared any awkward conversations about it. Even if things did get awkward, sleeping in the sanctuary meant I could try and catch Gogron and Telaendril on my way out later and thank them properly for helping defend Bruma. By then, whether staying was a good idea or not was a moot point, anyway. I couldn't have worked up the energy to get out of bed if I'd wanted to, and I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Antoinetta wasn't anywhere in sight when I woke up, and I found out Telaendril had left the sanctuary to tend to her duties outside it when I went looking for her after I left the living quarters. I managed to find Gogron before I left, at least, and got a bone-crushing hug and assurance that he'd been happy to behead a few daedra on my behalf out of him, along with entirely too much information about what Telaendril was like in bed after a good fight, when I thanked him for his help. The sun had already set when I left the sanctuary, which meant I'd need to ride through the night if I wanted to reach Skingrad on time, but at least the Deceiver's Finery saved me the trouble of needing to shop for party clothes along the way. I'd just have to keep it tucked away until I got there, so I didn't stain it while traveling. There was no point in a disguise if it looked like I'd dragged it through the mud on my way to the party, after all. My dagger was the only other thing I'd really need for the contract, and I had that strapped to my belt already, so I wouldn't need to stop anywhere along the way, for that matter. As long as I didn't run into any serious delays along the way, I'd arrive at Summitmist Manor right on time. Or at least, close enough to on time that it wouldn't make much difference.

Aside from a robed Khajiit who stopped me to ask if I had any calipers on hand, and riding into a nasty thunderstorm that only got worse after I tried to wait it out for an hour or two, I had an uneventful ride to Skingrad. I arrived at the city gates at some point after the sun had come up, if rainclouds hadn't blotted it out, and got my horse settled into a nice, dry stall in the stables before making my way into the city. I got a few strange looks from the stablehand when I changed into the Deceiver's Finery, but he was more than happy to hang my armor up to dry for me once I'd gotten it on. I didn't complain when they offered me a discount on tending to my horse, too, but the smile he had on his face the whole time gave me the shivers. It was good to know the enchantments on the Deceiver's Finery worked, I supposed, but I didn't think I'd want to wear it again. Even if I didn't mind the way its enchantments affected people, the gold stitching itched and all the fur trim made it uncomfortably warm.

Once I got through the city gates, it didn't take me long to find Summitmist Manor, though the rain had still soaked me to the skin by the time I got there. I probably looked more like a drowned rat than the sort of person who'd get invited to a treasure hunt. The way the doorman, a gray-haired Nord dressed in velvet, snickered when I approached him didn't do much for my confidence, either.

"I'm here for the party," I said, my clothes dripping onto the small patch of dry cobblestones under the covered balcony that overhung the doorway. I stood up straight, and tried to ignore the puddle of water forming around my feet.

"So, the last guest finally arrives. No accounting for taste, I guess." The doorman looked me over, one eyebrow raised, then shrugged. "Eh. It's no skin off my nose. I'll tell you what I told all the others. You go in, I lock the door. You don't come out 'til it's over. Now, I'll tell you what I didn't tell everyone else. We have the same mother, you and I, and she wants you to have this. It's the key to the house. I guess somebody else already told you the other details. Kill all the guests then leave, right?"

I nodded.

"Well then, get in there. Time to mingle." He opened the door, and gave a half-hearted gesture for me to go inside.

"Will do." I didn't lose any time getting myself through the door. At that point, I just wanted to get out of the rain, whether the doorman liked me or not.

The door slammed shut behind me, and before I'd made it more than two steps inside an old Breton woman grabbed my hand and gave it a good shake. "The sixth guest has finally arrived! It's about time you got here; do you know how long we've been waiting? It feels like an age!" she said. "In any event, we're all stuck here together, so we might as well get acquainted. The rest of us have already traded introductions. I'm Matilde Petit. The others are Nels the naughty, Neville, Dovesi Dran, and Primo Antonius. And you are?"

"I'm Remy. It's nice to meet you. Sorry I'm late; I didn't plan for all this rain…" I gestured to my still-dripping clothes.

Her eyes went wide, like she'd just seen me for the first time. "Oh, you poor thing! Look at me, scolding you after-" Her eyebrows furrowed. "Wait a moment. Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so."

"How strange. You look so familiar, but I just can't place it…"

"You must have me confused with someone else. It happens all the time; I just have one of those faces, I suppose." It wasn't likely, unless there was another pink-haired Dunmer running about Cyrodiil somewhere, but as far as I knew, I'd never seen the woman before in my life. If I had run into her somewhere, I doubted it had happened during one of my other contracts, at least, though I wouldn't have wanted her to recognize me as the Champion of Cyrodiil, either. If that got out, I'd never get the other guests to stop watching me, and the whole contract would go out the window. Not to mention the fact that it would've made less than no sense for me to be wasting time trying to find some random chest of gold. I'd never find a way to explain it all.

"Now I remember! You're one of those Arena fighters, aren't you? I saw one of your matches the other day; you put on quite a show. What brings someone like you here?"

"Well, you see… My baby is sick, and I can't afford medicine for the poor thing." I cringed before I'd even finished saying it. I'd never been much of a liar, but I'd reached a new low with that one. For the life of me, I couldn't have said why a sick child, of all things, had been the first idea to pop into my mind. Still, I supposed it fit in nicely with her thinking I was just an Arena combatant. It really didn't pay much, and having a sick child would go a long way in explaining why I'd joined the Arena in the first place.

"Oh, that's awful! You're such a good father, putting yourself at risk like that for your little one. Your wife is a lucky woman."

"I like to think she would be, if I had one." By the Nine, I needed to stop talking…

"Good luck finding the gold, then. You need it so much more than I do…" She frowned, picking at a bit of frayed stitching on her dress. "Maybe we could look together, and split the gold if one of us finds it. I think I have a fairly good idea where it might be hidden. If we hurry, we can beat the others there."

"That sounds great. Where should we start?"

"The basement. I'm sure there are all sorts of little nooks and crannies to hide things in down there. The door's so well hidden, no one else has even noticed it, too. It's the perfect hiding place, isn't it?"

I shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

"Let's get going then, before the others catch on."

I had a look around, to make sure no one else had seen us together, then followed Matilde into the basement. Once the door was safely shut behind us and we'd made it down the stairs, I waited for Matilde to turn her back on me, then slit her throat as she looked through a trunk of moth-eaten fabric. The cloth soaked up her blood better than I could've dreamed, and there was enough space for me to fit her corpse into the trunk along with it and get it mostly shut once she'd breathed her last. She wouldn't stay hidden for long if anyone else decided to go looking for gold in the basement, but it would have to do.

With Matilde taken care of, I went upstairs to look for the other guests. On the second floor of the house, I found a Nord and a Redguard standing by a table overflowing with food and drink, glaring daggers at each other.

"So, Nels, if you find the gold, what will you spend it on? Wait, let me guess, a sleazy whore and a nice new battleaxe; that's about all you Nords can appreciate. Am I right?" the Redguard asked, his face twisted into a very stab-able sneer. He hadn't directed a word of it at me, but it still stung.

Nels scoffed. "I'm going to open a tavern. Not that I'd welcome your patronage, Neville. No pigs allowed inside, you see. You Legion types tend to stink up a place."

"Your words border on treason, Nord. I may be retired, but I will not tolerate suck talk about my comrades-in-arms! Walk away from me now, or I'll show you just what 'us Legion types' are capable of."

"If you've got a problem, you walk away. I'm staying here and getting a drink." To prove his point, Nels turned his back on Neville and set about pouring himself a cup of mead.

Neville just shook his head, then stomped up the stairs to the third floor, muttering to himself all the while. When I heard the sound of a door opening, then slamming shut behind him, I double-checked that Nels was too busy with his mead to notice me before going up after him. After all he'd said, I didn't want to leave him alive a moment longer than I needed to. If someone hadn't taken out a contract on him, that kind of talk would've been enough to make me consider knifing him just for the fun of it.

The stairs led right into a hall of bedrooms. At the end of the hallway, I found Neville hunched over a trunk filled with armor, shoving a pair of metal boots onto his feet. I stabbed him in the back before he could get anything else on, and he fell to the ground with a shout. A couple extra stabs to the chest, just to be safe, later, I hid under a bed and waited for someone to find him. With any luck, the other guests would've heard him shouting, along with his argument with Nels, and would think the two of them had gotten into a fight. They'd never even have to know I was there.

It didn't take long for me to hear footsteps tramping up the stairs, then hurrying down the hall. A pair of voices that had to have belonged to Dovesi Dran and Primo Antonius accompanied them, though I couldn't make out a word they were saying. I didn't have any trouble hearing the scream one of them let out when they caught sight of Neville's body, though, or the thumping of their feet as they ran back the way they'd come. Downstairs, Nels' shouting voice joined theirs, until something made a shattering sound, followed by a dull, cracking thud, and everything went quiet.

A few minutes later, I crept back downstairs, and found a blond Imperial, probably Primo, sprawled out in a pile of glass shards on the floor with a broken mead bottle shoved through his throat. Nels hadn't fared much better, slumped over the table of food with an axe in his head. Dovesi, a Dunmer woman, had fallen to her knees beside Primo's corpse and leaned over him, her body shuddering with an occasional sob. Things had gone a bit messier than I'd have liked them to, but I couldn't argue with the results. Before she had a chance to pull herself together and look around, I stepped across the floorboards between Dovesi and I, hoping they wouldn't creak, then reached around her neck and cut her throat open. She went still, gurgled once, then collapsed onto Primo. Aside from all the blood and glass shards, it almost looked romantic, like something out of an overly dramatic play about star-crossed lovers, or whatever they called it.

Once I'd double checked that everyone was well and truly dead, I let myself out of the house. I'd hoped to make it back to Cheydinhal, or at least my shack in the Imperial City, at first, but after a few minutes of walking through the rainstorm outside, which had only gotten worse since I'd first arrived in Skingrad, I settled for just finding an inn to spend the night at. When even finding an inn seemed impossible in such a heavy downpour, I decided to cut my losses and just spend the night at Summitmist Manor. It was warm inside, if nothing else, and almost welcoming once I'd dragged all the corpses down to the basement; I even got to take a nice, warm bath in the washroom without paying through the nose for it like I'd have had to at an inn. I'd just finished dragging all the blankets, linens, and pillows downstairs and arranging them into a cozy little nest by the fireplace when, in what had become an almost normal occurrence for me somewhere along the line, I found myself pinned to a wall.

"I wouldn't say no to some flowers or poetry every once in a while, you know," I said. I halfway considered trying to wriggle out of Lucien's grip like I usually did, but I didn't see much point in it. We both knew I was perfectly happy there, after all. I'd had a long day, and my contract had gone about as well as it could have; I deserved a bit of nice, relaxing wall time. And, well, seeing as he'd dropped whatever spell he usually used to make himself invisible – and apparently his robes, as well – the view wasn't half bad, either. "Is there a reason you aren't wearing your robes, or are you just that eager to get me into bed?"

"I am not wearing my robes because they are soaking wet." Lucien nuzzled at my neck, lips curled into a smirk. "I could ask you the same question about your own lack of pants."

"Mm…" I sighed, pressing myself as close to him as our position would allow. "I don't lack them. They're just drying by the fire."

"Whatever shall we do to pass the time until our clothes have dried, then?" Lucien murmured. He wound a strand of my hair around his finger and gave it a firm tug – not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to sting a little and hold my head in place.

"I think I've got a few ideas…"

"Then perhaps we should give them a try."

And before I could fully make sense of what was happening, we'd collapsed onto my blanket nest and set about doing just that.

After, Lucien ran a lazy hand through my hair, untangling a few knots in it along the way. "I'm glad you finally decided to return to the family."

"Do me a favor and never refer to us that way in bed again, will you?" I gave him the most menacing look I could while using his chest as a pillow. "It ruins the mood. And I don't remember leaving anything. I just had other things to do. Nothing much, just saving the world. No need to thank me."

"Saving the world or not, it's time you started taking on contracts on a more regular basis. I've been far too lenient with you as it is."

"Can't we talk about this later? Now you're really ruining the mood…"

"It is hardly my fault that you had no interest in talking earlier."

"Neither did you."

"Fair enough. While we're on the subject, I am appreciative of the empire's non-destroyed state, its effect on your contract completion rate notwithstanding."

"Thanks, I guess." I sighed. "I just wish our emperor was in a non-destroyed state, too…"

"Are you sincerely telling me that the assassin who only just finished slaughtering a house full of people without a second thought is feeling guilty over failing to save one former priest?"

"He's feeling guilty over failing to save a good friend. One who deserves to be alive right now a lot more than he does…"

"If you're expecting a sappy monologue overflowing with sympathetic assurances that you are perfection incarnate and completely innocent of all wrongdoing, then I'm afraid you've come to the wrong person. Quite frankly, I'd find you unspeakably dull if you were perfection and innocence incarnate; referring to you as such would be an insult to the both of us."

"Well, I'm not expecting that. It's the last thing I'd want. I just wanted someone to help me forget about things for a while. Which you happen to be exactly the right person for."

"In that case, I'm proud to have been of service to Cyrodiil's esteemed Champion." Lucien smirked and tapped me on the nose. "Even if he does scream like a whore."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "In case you forgot, I was one until not so long ago. Now shut up and let me sleep."

\----------

I awoke the next morning to an unreasonably bright ray of sunlight filtering through a stained-glass window. I cast a hand out across the makeshift bed Remy had assembled in front of the fireplace, more out of curiosity than an actual expectation of finding him there. Instead of cold, empty sheets, however, I made contact with a warm body that couldn't possibly have belonged to him. Unless he had somehow managed to grow a set of breasts overnight, which, unlikely as it sounded, seemed to be the case when I sat up and had a good look at him.

I put a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Is it really that surprising I haven't left, yet?" Remy asked, eyes still closed. "If it's such a problem, you leave. I'm comfortable."

"Take a good look at yourself, then reconsider that question."

He groaned, but begrudgingly dragged himself up onto his elbows. "Fine, but I don't see what-" He looked down at himself, then paused, eyes blinking, his mouth hanging partially open. "Well. This is new."

"That's one way of putting it."

"It's probably just some daedra thing, right? Aren't Daedric Princes supposed to be able to change sex every now and again? It happens in stories about them all the time."

"You show a surprising lack of concern about this."

"What? I can think of a lot worse things I could've accidentally changed myself into. At least most of me still looks the same." Remy shrugged. "Besides, I'm sure it won't last forever. If it doesn't wear off within the next week or two, I'll just make a trip to the Shivering Isles and see if I can find a way to reverse it there."

"And how do you plan to explain this to the rest of the world?"

"Why would I have to explain it? What goes on in my pants is none of their business. I'll just bind the breasts down and act like everything's as it should be. As long as I'm not naked, I won't look that different."

"I suppose that would work on anyone who isn't overly familiar with you. I'd be careful around anyone that is, however."

"If anyone thinks something's off, I'll just tell them that this is just what I look like when I'm not covered in several layers of blood and dirt." Remy yawned, stretching himself out across my lap. "You worry too much."

"On the contrary, I'd argue that you worry too little."

"You really need to relax." Remy wiggled his hips in a manner that he might have intended to be suggestive, his mouth curled into a lopsided smile. "I think I could help with that, if you don't have any other plans for the day…"

"Are you really suggesting that?"

"Of course I am. I've always wondered what sex feels like for women; if I'm stuck like this for now, I may as well give it a try, right? What's the worst that could happen?"

"In that case, I suppose I could stay a while longer…" I said, fondling one of his breasts. "If you promise not to disappear again."

Remy gave a small, contented sigh. "I promise."

"Excellent." I'd need to make arrangements to pay whoever got the task of cleaning out Summitmist Manor extra for the mess we'd made, and delaying the disposal of the corpses within it, but reclaiming my wayward assassin was well worth the cost. I had quite possibly made arrangements to send him to his death on his next contract, after all. As his Speaker, the least I could do was ensure that, if I had signed his death warrant, he died happy and satisfied.


	18. Infinium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest change I made to this chapter was heavily reworking its first half, and giving a character involved in it a (hopefully) clearer motivation for his actions that actually ties into future canon a little bit, along with the usual dialogue tweaks and other minor fixes.

The morning had faded into late afternoon by the time I made it out of Skingrad and began the ride back to Cheydinhal. My… condition had yet to cure itself, but I'd managed to bind everything down well enough that no one was likely to notice anything was amiss as long as I kept my armor on. The armor almost did a good enough job of keeping things bound on its own, really – there wasn't much to bind down. And if anyone took enough of an interest in how I filled out my armor to notice something was a bit off, and forced themselves close enough to me to prove it, I'd probably have worse things to worry about than a slightly puffy chest. Lucien had vanished, as usual, long before I'd pulled myself together enough to even think about getting dressed, or even getting out of bed, after our morning tumble. I didn't plan on keeping my bits switched any longer than I had to, but it was good to know I could still have plenty of fun with them until I got things fixed, and they did make some things a bit easier in bed. Besides, it wasn't like I'd be the first man with lady bits wandering Tamriel; I'd been hired by a few over the years. If they could handle living their whole lives like that, I could handle it until whatever I'd done to myself wore off on its own or I figured out how to reverse it.

The Deceiver's Finery had me sweating like a pig after less than an hour in the sunlight, so I decided to stop by the Imperial City and pick up a more comfortable set of clothing for myself. I doubted I'd need to talk anyone into trusting me on my next contract, and even if I did, I'd just find a way to manage it without itchy stitching and fur trim. Besides, its color had looked awful on me, anyway. I'd meant for it to just be a quick stop, but once I'd gotten my horse stabled and my clothes changed, the sun had set, and I had a hard time convincing myself that pressing on to Cheydinhal was a better idea than getting a hot meal and a good night's sleep. My belly growling loud enough to put a bear to shame finally settled it for me – taking on my next contract would have to wait another day. I'd just make sure I woke up and left the city early the next morning, and it would be like I hadn't lost any time at all.

After grabbing a quick bite to eat at the Bloated Float, I took the long way home, wandering the winding maze of dimly-lit streets and alleyways that made up the Waterfront, instead of heading straight for my shack, for old times' sake. Even after going months without seeing most of it, I still knew it like the back of my hand. Most of the people there had changed – which wasn't much of a surprise, considering the Waterfront didn't have much in the way of permanent residents – but other than that, it could've passed for my last night there before I'd gotten dragged off to the Imperial City Prison, and into everything that came after it. Even the people started to match that night when I turned a corner and nearly ran into an Altmer who looked oddly familiar, thought I couldn't quite place him.

He'd built a crooked little shelter for himself out of a stack of broken shipping crates, and his robes, while they'd definitely seen better days, looked like they'd been fancy and expensive at some point. His hands shook as he ran them over a weathered book with a patchwork cover, digging his nails into it like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to hold it close to him or toss it into the street. His face, from what I could see of it under his hood, had twisted itself into something between frustration and anger. When he opened his mouth and started muttering himself, memories of the last time I'd seen him rushed into my head so fast they nearly bowled me over.

I'd run into him, though his clothes had looked a fair bit cleaner and he hadn't been half as twitchy, the night before I'd been thrown in prison. Altmer, especially the rich-looking ones, didn't usually look too kindly on anyone suggested they'd do something as "udignified" as bedding a common prostitute, but then, they didn't usually come to that part of the Waterfront, either, so I figured I had a decent chance of talking him into something. I couldn't afford not to try, really; I'd gone a few days without anyone hiring me for the night, and I'd almost run out of coin. At that point, I didn't see what I had to lose by giving him a try. When he actually seemed interested, and offered to pay me more than twice what I'd have asked for, I almost felt proud of myself. Then, as soon I'd held up my end of the bargain, the bastard hit me over the head with something heavy, and everything went dark. The next thing I knew, I'd woken up in a bed full of corpses with the city guard breaking down the door. Plenty of people had tried to get out of paying me before, but he'd been the first to go about it by framing me for murder. In retrospect, I almost respected the sheer creativity he would've needed to think that up, and the effort it must've taken to do the same thing to nine other people.

I didn't have near enough respect for his creativity to pass up my chance at getting revenge now that I'd run into him again, though. He didn't seem to have seen me yet, so I could've just knifed him and been done with it, but something stopped me. I didn't much care for the thought of torturing him, or killing him in a messier way, but I wanted to at least figure out why in Sithis' name he'd done what he did to me. Still, I couldn't very well have him running away or calling the guards before I'd finished with him. There'd be no explaining myself to Ocheeva or Lucien if I got thrown in prison for botching an assassination on someone who wasn't a Dark Brotherhood contract; I needed to move him somewhere safe if I wanted to talk to him.

A sturdy piece of driftwood someone had left propped against a wall solved my problem well enough. I hit him over the head with it, hard enough to knock him out but hopefully not enough to kill him, and dragged his unconscious body, and his book, back to my shack. Once I'd locked the door behind us and bound his hands behind his back as well as I could with a couple of hair ties, I got a fire going and waited for him to wake up.

He let out a groan when he came to, squinting at me through the dirty, tangled strands of hair hanging over his eyes. "Well. I never thought I'd see that hair again." He tried to move his arms, failed, then sighed. "I take it this is some form of revenge plot?"

I shrugged. "That was the plan."

"Don't you think you're overreacting just the slightest bit? You've clearly wormed your way out of a visit to the executioner, and you seem to be doing quite well for yourself, all things considered."

"You left my naked, unconscious body in a bed full of corpses… and you think this is overreacting?"

"It was nothing personal; I assure you, I bore you no ill will."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Ah, so it's an explanation you're after." He laughed. "I should have expected nothing less, from someone so… inferior."

I cringed. Somehow, even though he was the one tied up, I felt like he'd taken me hostage. "An explanation would be nice…"

"It's quite a long, horribly complex story, but I'll make my best effort at telling it in a way you'll understand. Do stop me if your brain starts to hurt.

"For reasons you'd be unable to comprehend even if I was at liberty to share them with you, I, along with my Dunmer associate, found myself undertaking a quest for Hermaeus Mora. In exchange for his artifact, which I needed for research I won't bore you with the details of, he required one soul from every race on Tamriel. Unfortunately, my companion failed to consider that the secret nature of my work could only remain a secret so long as I prevented others, such as himself, from prying into it. After his assistance in obtaining the souls I required, he became somewhat of a loose end, and, because I only required one Dunmer soul, I chose to obtain it from him when we returned to Hermaeus Mora's shrine. As such, I had nothing to gain by killing you; I simply required the appearance of your death in order to assuage any suspicions he may have had. You proved to be quite the distraction for the city guard, as well. My actions against you that night were a matter of convenience and self-preservation, nothing more."

"I hope your reward was worth dying over." I unsheathed my dagger.

"Unfortunately, it wasn't. One would think that the Oghma Infinium, and the infinite knowledge supposedly contained within its pages, would provide me with the means by which I might remove a false god from his seat on the mortal pantheon, but no. Perhaps Hermaeus Mora's title should be changed to the Daedric Prince of asinine, impossible answers."

"Um. Well, you're dying for it, anyway?"

"Fine. Better, perhaps, to die than return to my employers emptyhanded and in disgrace. Although…"

"What?"

"I wonder if I might appeal to your sense of curiosity. As it stands, the Oghma Infinium is of no use to me, but it does appeal to a number of… baser needs. Strength, speed, increased intelligence… It could all be yours. Should you agree to spare my life, I will gladly instruct on how to make use of it."

I picked up the Oghma Infinium, and turned it over in my hands. Normally, I'd have wanted to see what it could do, but knowing that ten people had died for it, and I could've been one of them, made it feel wrong to even be in the same room as the damned thing. And if it was anything like the Mysterium Xarxes, reading it probably would've been more dangerous than it was worth, anyway. I took a deep breath to clear my head, then said, "No. I don't want it," and threw it into the fireplace.

Instead of burning, the book disappeared into a cloud of foul-smelling smoke that gathered itself together into a portal of some sort. Before I could so much as blink, a pair of tentacles shot out of it and wrapped themselves around my Altmer prisoner, yanking him, kicking and screaming, into the portal's center.

"You should not have cast my gift aside so easily, mortal. Your rejection of my wisdom has shown that my trust in you was misguided. That mistake shall soon be rectified," a deep, rasping voice echoed from somewhere on the other side of the portal. "As for you, Lord of Madness, consider this… a warning. You have meddled in my affairs, and I shall remember." And with that, the portal closed, taking the cloud of smoke and the Altmer along with it.

I sat on my bed, staring at my fireplace with my legs tucked up against my chest, until the first light of dawn snuck in under my door, and I felt like I could be sure the portal and its tentacles wouldn't come back for me. After a few short hours of nightmare-filled sleep, I pulled myself together enough to get out of my house, onto my horse, and start traveling toward Cheydinhal, trying to push everything that had happened the night before to the back of my mind. Hermaeus Mora seemed perfectly happy to leave me be for the time being, and I could always try to patch things up with him once I'd actually started ruling over the Shivering Isles. I had a better chance of getting along with him than I did with Mehrunes Dagon, at least. I'd just need to make sure I didn't get on the bad side of any other Daedric Princes in the meantime.

My trip to the sanctuary passed in a blur that I couldn't have remembered if I'd wanted to, until I found myself standing in Ocheeva's room without much of an idea how I'd gotten there. As usual, she'd put all her paperwork aside and turned to face the door, like she'd known exactly when to expect me. I almost didn't see why I bothered knocking on her door before opening it, anymore.

"Well done! Not only did you kill the five guests, you acted as an agent of terror and grief. You have earned your reward and bonus, brother. I lay upon you now the Night Mother's blessing. May she walk with you always, and guide your hand as you act in accordance with the Five Tenets." Ocheeva stood, rested a clawed hand on my forehead, then said a few words in a language I couldn't understand. My whole body went all warm and tingly for a moment, then the feeling faded, and Ocheeva pulled her hand back. I couldn't have said for certain what her spell did, but something felt… different after she'd finished it. Not in any serious way, or anything I had the words to describe, but it was definitely there. I didn't have any trouble describing or understanding the bag of septims she handed me, though. "When you're ready, I have a most important contract. One that has been sanctioned by the Black Hand itself."

"The same one you were worried about giving me last time?"

Ocheeva's tail twitched. "Yes. I attempted to intercede with our Speaker on your behalf, but he was… adamant that this contract be given to you, and you alone. He has assured me that it lies within range of your skills."

"Let's hear it, then."

Ocheeva's eyes glittered with malice, and she bared her teeth in a wide smile. "Do you recall the name 'Adamus Phillida?' The Imperial Legion pest? It's time he joined Sithis in the Void." Her eyes softened. "Do you believe you're up to the task?"

I sighed. "Well, if our Speaker thinks I am, I'm not going to tell him otherwise." I'd have been lying if I said I felt good about trying to kill Adamus Phillida, especially when my only previous orders involving him were to stay as far away from him as possible, but I'd never turned down a contract before. And, well, if Lucien had said he thought I could handle it, I couldn't see any reason not to trust him on that. Thinking he was testing me just made more sense than thinking he was trying to kill me.

"Very well, then. Adamus Phillida has spent his entire career investigating the Dark Brotherhood, interrupting our contracts, killing our family members! We tried to eliminate Phillida, of course, but failed on three separate occasions. He's a powerful man, and was surrounded by powerful associates. Now the Legion pig's years of service have come to an end. He has retired. Phillida must not be allowed such a victory! His destiny is… darker. Phillida now resides in Leyawiin, in the City Watch barracks, and honored guest of the soldiers there. He is, in fact, more vulnerable than ever."

"So, where do I fit into all this?" I asked. Either Ocheeva had forgotten to tell me something, or she had a very different definition of the word 'vulnerable' than I did.

"The Black Hand has sanctioned the Rose of Sithis. It is a magic arrow specifically enchanted to kill its target. In this case, Phillida. If the arrow so much as scratches him, he will die. But it cannot pierce armor, and if your first shot fails to find its mark, the Rose will be wasted. Travel to Leyawiin. Track Phillida. Observe when he removes that blasted Legion armor, and then let fly the Rose of Sithis! Kill Phillida in any way, Rose or not, and the contract is complete. But to receive a bonus, you must go beyond murder; you must send a message. Once Phillida is dead, take the very ring from his corpse, the one that bears an Imperial Legion signet ring. Deposit this finger in the desk of Phillida's successor, in his office in the Prison Barracks, in the Imperial City. Do this, and the bonus is yours," Ocheeva replied, her face twisted into the same sadistic grin she'd worn earlier as she handed me an arrow with a rosebud-shaped head. "Adamus Phillida will find no rest in retirement. No, his soul will endure a kind of eternal suffering known only to those who have angered Sithis."

"I'll see what I can do." I let myself out of Ocheeva's quarters, wondering how I was supposed to go about doing any of that.

The Rose of Sithis would definitely come in handy, but I only got one chance to hit Phillida with it, and my archery wasn't exactly great. Even if I hit him with my first shot, I'd still need to get away once the deed was done. No matter how careful I was about it, I doubted I'd get away with killing Phillida without at least one other guard catching on, especially if I wanted to cut off his finger after. My armor and hood would keep anyone from recognizing me well enough, but if any guards managed to pull the hood back, everyone would know exactly who I was.

…Unless I didn't carry out the assassination as myself. I didn't waste any time getting myself to the sanctuary living quarters, hoping to find Antoinetta or Telaendril there.

Luck seemed to be on my side that day, because I found them both sitting at the table in the back corner of the chamber. "Telaendril, I need to borrow a dress," I said. She looked like she was closer to my size than Antoinetta, and was probably less likely to care about what condition the dress came back in.

"I suppose I can spare one." Telaendril raised an eyebrow at me. "Would you like to explain why you have a sudden need for women's clothing?"

"I need to kill Adamus Phillida, and if anyone sees me I'd rather not look like myself."

"Fair enough." Telaendril stood, pulled a dress out of the chest at the foot of what must've been her bed, and tossed it at me. "What are you going to do about that hair of yours?"

"I'm still trying to figure that part out."

"Oh, I know!" Antoinetta called out. "I've got some charcoal that should darken it right up! I've done it before; it works like a charm."

"Antoinetta, you're a genius," I replied.

The three of us spent the better part of an hour working enough charcoal into my hair and eyebrows to keep it looking black until I'd finished my contract. We stained a bedsheet using it to keep the charcoal off the rest of me, and stained a corner of the table we used as our workspace, but so long as the sheet made it into the wash without anyone seeing us put it there, no one was likely to notice anything had gone wrong. Once we'd cleaned all the charcoal we could off our hands with the soiled bedsheet, I let myself out of the sanctuary though its main door, changing out of my armor and into the dress Telaendril had loaned me in the abandoned house's basement. It wasn't the sort of thing I'd have wanted to wear often, but it was comfortable enough, and surprisingly easy to move in. As I made my way to the stables, no one gave me a second glance, just like I'd hoped; no one was likely to notice me in a crowd, or describe me to a city guard in any way that would actually help them catch me.

I reached Leyawiin in the wee hours of the next morning, and rented myself a room at a cheap inn for a few hours of sleep before I had a look at the City Watch barracks. Phillida and his bodyguard left the building at about the same time I arrived, for what looked like a morning walk around the city. After a couple hours of following them without Phillida showing any sign of removing a single piece of his armor, I'd almost given up and gone back to the inn for the day when they stopped by a large pool of water nestled between a quiet clump of houses. I slipped into the shadows between two houses, watching as Phillida removed his armor and went for a swim while his bodyguard looked on, paying more attention guarding Phillida's pile of armor than Phillida himself.

I doubted I'd get a better shot at him than that, so I drew my bow and nocked the Rose of Sithis onto its string, taking a deep breath to steady myself as I got ready to fire the single shot I hoped would end Phillida's life. I released the arrow when he came up for a breath of air, and watched as it sailed through the short distance between us and lodged itself in his shoulder. He opened his mouth to cry out, but didn't have time to make a sound before he'd fallen face-first into the water, dead. His bodyguard didn't notice anything straight away, but I knew I didn't have any time to lose if I wanted to collect Phillida's finger for my bonus. Inwardly thanking Sithis that I'd thought to disguise myself, I waded into the shallow edge of the pool Phillida's body had drifted into and sawed his ring finger off with my dagger.

Once I had the finger safely tucked away in a pouch on my belt, I took off running. Phillida's guard turned around when I passed him, and called out after me when he caught sight of his charge's corpse, but I was well ahead of him by the time he thought to chase after me. Before long, half the city guard had joined in the chase, either shooting at me or trying to get close enough to grab me. One guard got close enough to tear my sleeve off, but I managed to make it through the city gate and onto my horse without getting hit by anything serious, and took off into the surrounding forest as fast as I could convince the horse to move.

The guards tried to keep up with me, but it didn't take me long to lose them in the trees. Once I felt sure they'd given up on following me, I stopped on the shore of the lower Niben, where I washed the charcoal out of my hair as best I could and changed back into my armor. After that, I rode to the Imperial City at a more leisurely pace, certain that even if the guards did catch up to me, I wouldn't be who they were looking for. When I got there, no one questioned me milling around the Imperial Legion Offices, and I didn't have any trouble slipping into Phillida's successor's office and sneaking Phillida's finger into his desk while no one was looking.

I went straight back to Cheydinhal when that was done. After what had come out of it the last time I was there, I still didn't quite trust the fireplace in my house, and sleeping in the sanctuary meant I wouldn't be alone. I found Ocheeva pacing back and forth in her chamber when I got there, laughing with his hands clasped together in joy. She stopped and turned around when I knocked on her doorframe.

"Adamus Phillida is dead! I could feel my heart swell with the Night Mother's love the moment that Imperial pig issued his last breath. You have done a great service to the Dark Brotherhood this day, brother. Your reward is well earned," she said, pressing a heavier bag of septims than usual into my hands. "As a bonus for leaving Phillida's severed finger as a warning to his successor, your pay has been doubled. Go now. Get some rest. Sithis knows you've earned it. When you're ready for another contract, you need only ask."

"Will do." I stashed the bag of septims in my pack and made my way to the sanctuary living quarters. Telaendril had left the sanctuary, but I left her dress, and a note apologizing for its missing sleeve, on the chest at the foot of her bed before turning in for the night. I was quite proud of myself, really. My plans had worked out properly two contracts in a row, and I couldn't have timed that stroke of luck any better if I'd tried. Even Lucien would've had a hard time finding something to complain about this time around.

The next morning, something nudged me awake far earlier than I would've liked. I opened my eyes to find Ocheeva standing beside my bed, a sealed letter in her hand.

"What is it?" I asked, forcing myself to sit up and wipe the sleep from my eyes.

Ocheeva smiled at me and handed me the letter. "I must speak with you, brother. It is quite urgent. A sealed letter just arrived from a Dark Brotherhood courier. I recognize this type of parcel; it contains sealed orders. It's addressed to you… from Lucien Lachance. You must open these sealed orders immediately and follow their instructions to the letter. It would seem the Black Hand itself has a task for you."


	19. The Purification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The major changes I made here were reworking a lot of the dialogue, and deleting a scene that really had no reason to exist and clashed horribly with the tone of the rest of the chapter. I hope this reads much more smoothly now.

The letter didn't say anything specific; it just told me to meet Lucien at Fort Farragut, an abandoned ruin somewhere east of Cheydinhal, right away to deal with some sort of threat to the Dark Brotherhood, and to not talk to anyone else in the sanctuary about it on my way there. I was a bit upset that he'd referred to me by my rank instead of my name, but the way he'd written the rest of the letter bothered me more. Instead of Lucien's usual calm, level-headed tone, he sounded almost… desperate. And if whatever the threat to the Dark Brotherhood was had Lucien worried, I didn't know if I wanted anything to do with it. I wasn't looking forward to finding out what exactly the 'rotting sentinels' guarding Lucien's fort were, either, but I wasn't about to abandon him in his time of need.

I forced myself to walk to the ladder leading out of the sanctuary, so I didn't draw too much attention to myself, then climbed it as fast as I could and sprinted to the city gate. Once the gate had shut behind me, I mounted my horse and rode into the forest surrounding Cheydinhal. After a fair bit of searching, and getting turned around a few times, I found a path worn through the underbrush and followed it to a crumbling ruin that I hoped was Fort Farragut. I didn't run into any trouble outside the fort's walls, but once I got its main door unlocked and forced its rusty hinges to open wide enough for me to slip inside, it didn't take me long to figure out what Lucien's 'rotting sentinels' were. The last rays of sunlight to make it through the fort doors glinted off the axe and shield of a Dark Guardian shambling through the shadows on the opposite end of the chamber. After the door swung shut behind me, the chamber went dark, but not too dark to see in. The whole place gave off a sort of blue, glowing mist that, while it hid most of the floor, gave off a light that rolled off the walls of the fort in a way that made them look like the outside world just before dawn, or just after sundown.

The Dark Guardian didn't look any friendlier in blue, and the thought of having to fight it, and any others like it, made my knees shake a little, even after all the undead things I'd run afoul of recently. It seemed to have planted itself right between me and the set of doors leading into the rest of the fort, though, so I doubted I'd get much choice in the matter. I spent the next few minutes watching it pace back and forth across the chamber, but it never strayed far enough from the door for me to make a move.

Instead of attacking it head-on, I picked up a loose bit of stone off the floor and tossed it into the corner farthest away from the door. It landed with a scratchy, clattering sound that caught the Dark Guardian's attention like a dream, and it abandoned its post to go searching for it, clacking its teeth together all the while. I dashed across the chamber as soon as it turned its head away from me, careful not to step on any other loose rocks and draw it right back toward me. When I reached the door, I tossed another rock into another corner of the chamber to keep the Dark Guardian distracted, then got to work on its lock. A few moments of fiddling later, the door swung open without a sound, like someone had gone to the trouble of keeping its hinges oiled while the rest of Fort Farragut fell into ruin. Once I'd stepped through it, and into the narrow hallway beyond it, I nudged it shut again with nothing more than the click of its latch sliding back into place.

I could just make out the outline of another Dark Guardian a bit farther down the hall, plodding its way toward me with its axe scraping along the flagstones behind it. It didn't seem to have noticed me yet, but in such a cramped space, I knew that wouldn't last long. I didn't have any hope of slipping past it, and I didn't much like the thought of taking my chances with its friend in the chamber behind me, so I decided to charge it and hope for the best.

The cramped tunnel actually worked in my favor, since the Dark Guardian didn't have much room to swing its axe, and I hacked it to pieces without too much trouble. I'd just started to feel proud of myself when my leg caught a tripwire, and I almost got crushed by a pile of rocks. Once the dust settled, and I picked my way over the rocks only to lose my footing on an oil slick and stop just short of falling into a pit of spikes, I started to wonder if my secret mission was to get myself killed on my way to Lucien. He hadn't put together a very warm welcome for me, and after having to fight off another Dark Guardian when I reached a fork in the hallway, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what else he had in store for me. Still, he'd asked for my help specifically, and I still had at least one Dark Guardian standing between me and the exit, so I kept going. Before too long, I came to a twisted gate separating a well-lit chamber from the rest of the fort, and once I'd pulled the lever in front of it, I squeezed myself under it as soon as it had risen far enough for me to fit through the opening.

When I stood up and dusted myself off, I found myself standing in a chamber that almost could have passed for someone's home. Cupboards and shelves filled with books and alchemy supplies lined its walls, with the occasional skull used a bookend. Banners marked with the same black hand as the ones in the sanctuary hung on either side of a rope ladder leading to a trapdoor in the ceiling. A small, simple bed had been nestled into a corner on the chamber's left side, and on its right sat a stone trough of some kind beside a tidy desk and chair. Barrels and crates, some sealed and some not, clustered around the chamber's other furniture. A few torches set in sconces on the walls gave off a warm, dim light that kept out the mist swirling through the rest of the fort. If it weren't for the tree roots poking through the ceiling and the bare floors, I'd have been open to the thought of living there, myself.

I couldn't see any sign of Lucien himself until his voice rumbled, "So, you've arrived at my inner sanctum in one piece. Excellent," into my ear, and he appeared out of the shadows beside me.

I cried out and jumped about a foot in the air. "If you're trying to kill me, could you please just do it now and get it over with?" I gasped, clutching at my chest while I waited for my breathing to slow down to somewhere near normal. "I don't know how much more of this I can handle."

"I assure you, killing you is not my intent. Quite frankly, I half-expected you to find the trapdoor," Lucien replied. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he sounded apologetic. "I'm afraid there is a… situation. One that I will require your assistance with."

"So, what is this 'situation' of yours? And did you really need me to crawl through that tunnel of death before telling me?"

Lucien sighed. "I had to be certain you were worthy of the task I am about to assign you; this seemed as good a method as any. Now, the time has come to test both your skill and your loyalty to Sithis. The Black Hand has learned that the Dark Brotherhood has been infiltrated. By whom, and for what purpose, we do not yet know. What we do know is that there is some link between the traitor and the Cheydinhal sanctuary. The mark of this betrayal has tainted that place beyond repair. It must be purged of its filth if the Dark Brotherhood is to survive.

"The traitor has been active for quite some time, and their first confirmed act against our family occurred long before you joined our ranks. That absolves you of any suspicion. Your brothers and sisters within the Cheydinhal sanctuary, however, have no such alibi."

My blood ran cold. "Wait, you can't possibly mean…"

"Oh, but I do. You have been selected by the Black Hand to perform the ancient rite known as Purification."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"You must break one of the Tenets you have sworn to uphold. I know this is an unexpected turn of events, but drastic measures must be taken. Ocheeva, Vicente Valtieri, Antoinetta Marie, Gogron gro-Bolmog, Telaendril, M'raaj-Dar and Teinaava. All of these family members must die! From this point forward, you are no longer bound by the Five Tenets. Sithis will forgive any murder, any theft, so long as you serve the Black Hand. When the rite of Purification has been completed, return to me here at Fort Farragut, and we will discuss your future."

"This… this is all just some kind of joke, right? Or, you're testing me, to make sure I wouldn't really do something like that? Just tell me you didn't mean it. Please?"

"This is no joke, and I would sincerely prefer that you accept this assignment."

"How can you say that?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. My entire body trembled, though whether it was from anger or sadness, I couldn't have said. "How can you be so… so calm, when you're asking me to murder an entire sanctuary full of people that see us both as part of their family?"

"As unfortunate as it is, there are times when a few of our brothers and sisters must be sacrificed for the good of the-"

"Don't you even care?! Even if someone in the sanctuary is the traitor, six of them haven't done a damn thing wrong! What makes the Black Hand so sure that the traitor is one of them, anyway? They all love you; when I first joined up, all most of them would talk about was how great a Speaker you are, and the awful places you saved them from when you recruited them! They don't have any reason to betray you… Couldn't you explain that to the Black Hand? If your entire fucking job is running your sanctuary, how could you have done such a bad job at monitoring us that you honestly don't know whether or not we've been killing off other assassins in our spare time? And now everyone else has to die for it, and you don't even care! You've got to be the most-"

"That's enough." Lucien grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a bit of a shake. His cold, unreadable expression cracked along with his voice as he said, "I don't want this any more than you do, but my hands are tied. When the Listener gives an order, I am bound by it as thoroughly as our family's lowliest recruits. I assure you, I have done everything in my power to buy the time I would require to ferret out the traitor in our midst – to spare even one more innocent life – but my efforts were in vain. The rest of the Black Hand has spoken, and I am outvoted. Do not think for a moment that I am not painfully aware of all that I am about to lose."

"I… I'm sorry," I replied. They probably weren't the best words for the situation, but I couldn't think of anything that fit better. For the first time since I'd met him, Lucien looked… vulnerable. Several strands of his hair had fallen loose from the tie holding it back, and in the glow of the torchlight I could just make out a few faint glimmers of gray in the rest of it that might have always been there, but I'd never noticed before. He'd let his stubble grow out more than usual, too. His eyes looked dull and tired, and he had dark circles beneath them, like he hadn't slept right for days. I didn't know what to make of it.

Lucien let go of my shoulders and took a step back. "Do you have even the faintest idea what I had to go through to convince the Listener to spare even your life? I am well aware that I have failed in my duties as a Speaker. You may hate me for it if you wish, but the least you can do is show a bit of gratitude for my saving you from the same fate as the rest of the sanctuary."

"I don't hate you for this. I don't know how I feel, but I… I know it isn't that." Lucien raised an eyebrow at me when I said it, but I think I'd surprised myself more than him. The more I thought about it, though, the more I knew it was true. He couldn't have faked that kind of anguish in his voice, and his rumpled appearance spoke for itself; he hurt as much as I did. Maybe more. It didn't make him telling me to murder everyone else in the sanctuary all right, but I couldn't hate him for it. Not when I knew he'd tried to save them, the same way I'd tried to save Martin. "And I am grateful that you convinced the Listener not to have me killed."

"I apologize for allowing the task of carrying out the Purification to fall to you, but it was deemed necessary as a final test of your loyalty. I would advise against subverting your orders and trying to save our former brothers and sisters; if you do not kill them, the task will fall to someone else – someone who lacks your connection to them, and likely will not share your inclination to give them as quick and painless a death as possible."

"I'll do it. It's wrong, but I'll do it." I sighed. "I should be going, then, shouldn't I?"

"Not just yet." Lucien reached a hand into a pocket of his robe and pulled out an apple and a rolled slip of paper. "Before you leave, take these gifts; they should prove useful in completing your task. One is a poisoned apple. The other, a unique scroll of summoning."

"Thanks." I pocketed the scroll, but held on to the apple.

"Now go, and may Sithis go with you."

I walked my horse back to Cheydinhal's stable, rolling the poisoned apple in the palm of my hand the whole way. My feet dragged as I forced myself to trudge through the city gates and down the road to the sanctuary. I hadn't grown particularly close to anyone else in the sanctuary, but I liked most of them well enough. Now that I didn't have to spend all my time running back and forth across Cyrodiil collecting things for Martin, I'd been looking forward to getting to know them all better. Killing them off was the last thing I wanted to do. Still, I couldn't deny that Lucien had the right of it. Refusing to carry out my orders would only delay their deaths, not stop them. I'd probably get myself killed along with them, too. Even if I survived, I doubted I'd get to stay in the Dark Brotherhood, and the Dark Brotherhood was all I had left.

As I climbed into the sanctuary's well entrance, I promised myself I'd make things as quick as possible, like ripping off a stuck bit of bandage. It would be easier on me, and everyone else, that way. I'd have a hard enough time just killing them; watching them panic and turn on each other like the guests at Summitmist Manor as their friends dropped dead around them would've broken me. Which meant that I couldn't use the poisoned apple. When I reached the bottom of the ladder, I shoved it into my pack, with the summoning scroll tied to its stem so I'd remember not to eat it. Instead of causing a fuss by killing someone right away, I'd spend the rest of the day in the sanctuary, pretending nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Then, once everyone had gone to sleep – if everyone slept at night, anyway – I'd do my best to kill them all as they slept, before anyone had a chance to wake up and realize what was happening. And before I had time to have second thoughts about what I was doing.

Everything started off well enough, and no one seemed to give a second thought to my visiting the sanctuary without picking up or turning in a contract. Even M'raaj-Dar, who hadn't spoken to me since telling me to stay away from him when we'd first met, didn't seem to mind my being there; he gave me an actual, pleasant greeting when he saw me, and, after congratulating me on surviving so many contracts, said he hoped we might get to know each other better someday. Under any other circumstances, I'd have been thrilled to bits by him finally accepting me, but right then, I couldn't help but wish he still hated me. It would've made killing him later feel better, instead of a hundred times worse.

I ended up spending more time trying to interact normally with everyone than thinking of ways to kill them, but I just couldn't bring myself to care. The only useful bit of information I picked up while I waited for nightfall was that Telaendril was away from the sanctuary, and no one expected her back for at least another day. I thought about holding off on my plan until she returned, but I'd already gone too far to turn back, at that point. I'd just need to resign myself to staying in the city for an extra day after I'd taken care of the rest of the sanctuary; I'd never been any good at lying to people I cared about, and I didn't trust myself to keep acting like nothing was wrong for much longer than I already had.

Ocheeva was the first to turn in for the night. Once she'd shut her door behind her, I found myself a bed in the sanctuary living quarters and made myself comfortable pretending to sleep while I waited for everyone else to go to sleep. I must've nodded off for real at some point, though, because after closing my eyes for just a moment, I opened them to find most of the torches in the chamber snuffed out, and bodies in all the beds around me. I got out of bed, slipped back into my armor, and snuck out of the room, then made my way to Ocheeva's quarters. If either of them woke up, I figured she and Vicente were more likely to catch on to what was happening than anyone else, so starting with them seemed to make the most sense. Ocheeva stirred a bit when I opened her door, but she didn't wake, and after standing over her bed for a moment, arguing with myself over whether I could really go through with it, I slit her throat and covered her face with a pillow to muffle any sounds she might have made as she bled out. When her body went limp, I knew I'd lost my chance to turn back, and as wrong as it was, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders as I walked down the winding hallway to Vicente's chamber.

I found Vicente seated at his table, sipping at a glass of a red drink that was either wine or blood. "Please, do come in and join me." He gestured to the chair across the table from him. "I've been expecting you."

"All right, then…" I tried not to look worried as I sat down, clutching my dagger behind my back.

"I believe I know what you have been sent here to do."

I gasped and dropped my dagger, and he chuckled as it clattered to the floor. "Y-you do?"

Vicente nodded and drained his glass. "I could smell the fear and guilt on you from the moment you entered the sanctuary, just as I can smell Ocheeva's blood on your dagger. The Black Hand has chosen to Purify our sanctuary, has it not?"

"Yes… it has." I'd technically disobeyed my orders by telling him, I supposed, but I didn't see much point in lying about the Purification when he'd already figured it out. He deserved better than that. "I'm sorry… If you want to fight me, I understand, and if you kill me I won't hold it against you. I don't want to do this, and I don't think any of you are a traitor, but I don't have a choice. I'm sorry."

Vicente shook his head, and smiled without showing any teeth. "I see no need to resort to such drastic measures. I have lived more than my fair share of years, and killing you would only add one more name to the list of those wrongfully killed in place of the traitor. I have lived my life in service to the Night Mother and our Dread Father, and I will not disgrace myself by defying their will. If this is how my centuries of loyalty are to be repaid, then so be it."

"So, what happens now?"

"The poison I have ingested should claim my life at any moment. After that, you have several more assassins to assassinate, do you not?"

"You poisoned yourself?"

"Yes. I desire a peaceful death, and your hands will be stained with the blood of enough members of our family as it is."

"Thanks, I guess…"

Vicente laughed. "Really, it's a miracle I've… lasted this…" his voice trailed off as he slumped forward onto the table, dead. His glass toppled over and rolled off the table, a few drops of red, shining in the torchlight, still inside it.

After checking for a pulse – if vampires even had pulses, but I couldn't think of a better way to check if he was properly dead of not – and not finding one, I picked up my dagger and crept back to the living quarters. The light feeling had gone, and left me feeling more weighted down than I had when I'd started. I hadn't expected to have to talk to anyone once I'd started killing, and Vicente figuring things out and doing part of my job for me just made things worse.

Gogron, M'raaj-Dar, and Teinaava were all sound asleep, and I killed them in the same way I'd killed Ocheeva. Teinaava thrashed around more than I'd expected, and got in a scratch that would've been nasty if my armor hadn't blocked it, but other than that, they didn't give me any trouble, aside from a sick feeling in my gut over knowing I'd betrayed their trust in me. My gut twisted itself up even further when I realized Antoinetta wasn't in her bed, or anywhere in the living quarters. I hoped she'd just fallen asleep somewhere else, but after the way the rest of my night had gone, I doubted I'd be that lucky.

I found her in the training room, wide awake and practicing stealth attacks on a battered training dummy. The door creaked as I shut it behind me, and she turned around to greet me, a bright smile on her face. It seemed like she hadn't realized we were the last two living people in the sanctuary, at least, small comfort that it was.

"Hello, brother. You're up early today. Is there something you need?" she asked.

"I just thought I'd try and get some training in. It seems like you've beaten me to it, though…" I replied, fidgeting in discomfort as I tried to avoid meeting her sparkly, blue eyes. I'd grown closer to Antoinetta than anyone else in the sanctuary during my time there; killing her really was going to feel like losing a family member. Or, at least, a damn good friend. Her seeming like the least likely person to be the traitor didn't help things, either. She'd always acted too happy and honest for me to believe she'd betray anything.

"Don't be silly; there's plenty of room for us both here. It'll be nice to have some company." Antoinetta gestured for me to join her, and frowned when I didn't move. "Is this about what happened in the Imperial City? If it is, I'm sorry about what happened. I wasn't myself, you know? I'd never do something like that normally. Unless you wanted me to, that is. Then I might…"

"It's all right, Antoinetta." I crossed the space between us, and let myself hug her just once, before the end. I didn't see how it could hurt anything. "You've been a good friend, and I wouldn't let something that small put an end to that. And I'm sorry, too… For what I have to do now." My voice cracked as I let go of Antoinetta with one arm so I could unsheathe my dagger. It felt like a lead weight in my hand as I tightened my grip on its hilt.

"What are you talking ab-" her question ended in a cry of pain as I drove my dagger into her back. I held her steady as she fell to her knees, then lowered her body to the floor. She kept her confused, pain-filled eyes on me the whole time, her face twisted into a silent "why" as the last of the life faded from them.

After she'd breathed her last, gasping breath, I felt like I'd been the one stabbed in the back. Something in my chest had tightened into a knot of white-hot pain, and I assumed it was just guilt until I looked down and saw a bloody arrowhead that had gone straight through me. I turned around to find Telaendril standing in the doorway, her face blank as she nocked another arrow onto her bowstring. Apparently she'd decided to come home early.

With no time to think about anything but not getting shot again, I pushed the pain aside and dropped to the ground just in time to avoid her next arrow. As she pulled another one from her quiver, I dragged myself behind a weapon rack and grabbed a practice sword off of it. It didn't look very sharp, or even well-made, but it would have to do. I held it close to me as I listened to Telaendril's footsteps crossing the room toward my hiding spot. When they stopped, right on the other side of the weapon rack, I put a hand on top of the rack to give myself a bit of leverage and hauled myself to my feet, stabbing in what I hoped was Telaendril's direction with my free hand. The sword pierced her armor and stuck itself into her chest well enough that I couldn't pull it back out.

Telaendril dropped her bow as she fell to the ground, dead, and my contract was complete. I staggered away from her corpse, clutching at the arrow in my chest, until I collapsed at the foot of the ladder leading out of the sanctuary. It hurt like Oblivion, and I didn't know for certain whether I'd survived it or it was just taking its time killing me, but it seemed like the arrow hadn't damaged anything important on its way through me. I gave it a bit of a tug, and screamed at the bolt of pain that shot through me; I'd never be able to get it out without help. And since there was no one in the sanctuary left to help me, I only had one person left to turn to. I got to my feet, still shaking a little from the pain, and put myself to work dragging myself up the ladder, one rung at a time. When I'd finally pulled myself through the well's grating and put my feet down on solid ground again, I headed for the city gates and Fort Farragut, where I hoped I'd find Lucien waiting for me.


	20. More Accidents Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest changes I made to this chapter were fixing some really uncomfortable, somewhat problematic dialogue between Haskill and Remy, and not leaving Prior Maborel's poor paint horse out in the cold because of a plot hole I missed the first time around.

I pulled the trapdoor leading into my chambers in Fort Farragut shut behind me with a satisfying thud, my bag of alchemy reagents and parts I'd need to repair my traps and Dark Guardians tucked under my arm as I descended the rope ladder beneath it. I hadn't planned to leave the fort until my prospective Silencer returned from carrying out the Purification, but his clumsy, destructive expedition through my defenses had left me with little choice in the matter. I had planned for some repairs, but lacked the necessary supplies to fully reset and reload all the traps he had set off along his way. I could scarce afford to leave my home unprotected until I was certain the traitor had been disposed of, and I doubted that the destruction of my sanctuary would give me cause to lower my guard. The shops in Cheydinhal had provided me with most of what I needed, but the acquisition of some of the more… exotic alchemy reagents I required for the rituals involved in breathing new life into my damaged Dark Guardians required a trip to the Imperial City and the foreign merchants that occupied the darker corners of its Market District.

In the end, I'd returned successful from my excursion, but even aided by Shadowmere's supernatural speed, I'd left Fort Farragut unattended for longer than I would have liked. Granted, I didn't expect that Remy would return from his contract for another few days, at least, unless he'd had an ill-advised change of heart, but I'd never liked taking unnecessary chances. It simply wouldn't do to appear unprepared for the newest member of the Black Hand's return from his initiation, after all. Under the circumstances, accusations of sloppy planning and abandoning my Silencer were the last thing I needed.

I nearly lost my grip on the ladder when I looked down and saw a crumpled figure with an arrow through its chest leaning against my bed. An entirely unwelcome sense of dread washed over me as I lowered myself to the floor, and my blood froze in my veins when removing the figure's hood revealed a tangled mop of pink hair. Remy gave no response to the loss of his hood, and his body had an unsettling limp, quiet stillness to it; even in sleep, he had a penchant for snoring and fidgeting that prevented him from reaching such a state. I placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, in an effort to avoid aggravating his injury. When he stirred and opened his eyes with a pitiful whimper, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"What in Sithis' name happened to you?" I asked.

"Telaendril," he replied, his voice weak and wavering. "Didn't think she'd come back so early… Still killed her, though. Contract's done."

"Obviously, or we wouldn't be having this conversation. How long have you been waiting here, and why in Sithis' name didn't you get yourself to a healer first?"

"Wasn't thinking straight. Probably haven't been here more than an hour or two… Can we not talk about this? At least, not now? I'd like to get this arrow out, first. It's a bit painful."

"I'll get it out as soon as you get yourself off the floor." I lifted Remy to his feet and sat him down on my bed. I'd need to replace the blanket when all was said and done, no doubt, but my chamber lacked a better workspace, and moving him any further, in his current condition, would have been reckless and inadvisable at best. After a thorough examination of his wound and the arrow lodged within it, accompanied by quite vocal protests and a rather impressive string of obscenities whenever I so much as breathed on the affected area, I felt satisfied that the arrow hadn't pierced any organs or blood vessels, and could be removed without causing any further damage. Telaendril had meant for her first shot to wound, not kill, it seemed.

"Are we done now? I just want this over with… Please." Remy had squeezed his eyes shut, his body visibly shaking.

"Yes. I'll need you to lend me your dagger." I'd need to remove the fletching from the arrow before I could safely push it the rest of the way through his body. For that, I required a cutting instrument, and while it irreproachably served its intended function of slicing through flesh, my shortsword was ill-suited for sawing through arrows.

"I can't. I don't have it with me."

"Where is it, then?"

"Probably still in Antoinetta."

"You left your primary weapon behind at the site of a contract? Why am I not surprised…"

"Sorry? In my defense, getting shot is fairly distracting."

"You should be apologizing to yourself. It doesn't matter to me how I get the fletching off this arrow, but cutting it off wouldn't have moved it as much. I'm afraid this is going to hurt; do try to hold still."

Without any further warning, or opportunity for Remy to object or brace himself in a manner that could interfere with my work, I snapped the arrow in two as close to its entry wound as possible. He cried out and pitched forward, and likely would have fallen off the bed had I not been there to catch him. Once I'd arranged him into an upright position once more, he opened his mouth to speak, but settled for another agonized wail as I gripped the remainder of the arrow just behind its head and set about pulling it through his chest. The process caused him excruciating pain, no doubt, but delaying the inevitable would only have prolonged his suffering, and proceeding in a less quick, efficient manner would have done nothing to lessen the pain inherent to such a procedure. As I pulled the last of the arrow's shaft free, he fell silent, and a quick examination revealed that, while his pulse remained strong, he had lost consciousness. Which, while it certainly hadn't been the intended result of my actions, enabled me to disinfect and close the seeping wound the arrow had left in its wake in peace.

\----------

I woke up in Lucien's bed, alone, wearing nothing but my smallclothes and several bandages wound tight around my sore, still all-too-female chest. I made a mental note to get myself to the portal to the Shivering Isles as soon as possible; having my bits switched had been amusing at first, but I was more than ready to have my old body back. Nothing felt right anymore, and having my chest bound all the time was itchy, sweaty, and uncomfortable. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable as having an arrow stuck inside me, though, and I felt like a new man compared the quivering mess I'd been earlier. I found my armor in a neat, folded pile on the floor next to the bed, with my dagger sitting on top of it. Lucien must've gone to the sanctuary while I slept and brought it back for me, even if it didn't seem like he'd stuck around after that.

I eased myself out of bed and got dressed as fast as I could without disturbing my bandages, and the arrow wound under them, too much. I figured Lucien – wherever he'd gone – would have some kind of orders to give me before I left his fort, so once I'd slid my dagger back into its sheath, I sat down on the bed again. The crippling pain in my chest had faded to a dull ache, even when I stretched my arms out, but I didn't want to push myself, just in case. I didn't want to risk another healing session with Lucien; he wasn't exactly gentle.

I probably deserved worse than a bit of harsh healing after what I'd done, though. Telaendril's arrow might have been gone, but I couldn't ask anyone to rip my guilt out of my chest. I almost hoped I had a nasty scar under my bandages, to remind me that the Purification had hurt me, too. I wished that things could have ended differently, but at least I knew that, aside from Telaendril, my former guildmates had died about as peacefully as assassins could, small comfort that it was. And at least I knew Vicente hadn't blamed me for the way things turned out; I hoped that everyone else would've felt the same, if they'd known what Vicente had. I supposed I'd just have to leave it at that, and try to move on. They all probably would have done the same thing, if they were me, after all. Killing is what assassins do.

A few moments later, I heard the sound of a book snapping shut and scraping across something wooden, and Lucien appeared out of nothing, like he always did, sitting on a chest a few feet away from the bed. He'd shaved and fixed his hair since I'd left for the Purification, and his face looked less tired.

"The ritual of Purification is complete. Well done." Lucien sighed. "Sithis has been appeased, and the time has come to acknowledge and reward your unwavering loyalty. The Black Hand is most pleased with your progress; you have been invited to share in secrets that few within the Dark Brotherhood even know exist. Your life in the sanctuary is over. Those contracts are behind you. Now, you will serve the Black Hand. You will serve me. From this moment forward, you will walk the shadows as my Silencer. You will receive contracts only from me. Your new life has begun."

"So, what happens now?"

"Now you embrace your fate. No longer will you receive orders directly. Instead, you will visit dead drop locations scattered throughout Cyrodiil. Your next contract can be found at the dead drop on Hero Hill, southeast of here. A hollow in the moss-covered rock contains all you need to know. When you leave here, we will not speak again, unless I deem it necessary."

"What?" I felt like I'd just had another arrow shot through my back, but I tried to keep a straight face. Sure, I'd never really expected whatever Lucien and I had between us to last, but I couldn't see why he'd picked then, of all times, to put a stop to things. I needed him. A bit of a waver worked its way into my voice when I asked, "This is the end for us, then?"

"I felt that this was the best course of action, in light of recent events," Lucien replied, raising an eyebrow at me. "You stated your opinion of me quite clearly when I gave you your last contract; I assumed you'd prefer to have as little contact with me as possible from now on."

"That's what this is about?" I cringed a little at how much I sounded like a bitter, jilted former lover. "Yes, I was angry that I had to kill the closest thing I've had to a family in years. I still am, a little. But I'm not too angry to see that you cared enough to spare my life, or that this wasn't your idea. I'm not angry with you. At least, not any more than I'm angry with myself. You just gave me the order; I'm the one who went and killed them all. Right now, you're… you're all I have left in this world. If you'd rather seduce a newer member of the family than stay involved with me, fine, but the least you can do is talk to me every now and again."

"What makes you so certain I've lost interest in you already?"

"You don't seem like the type to keep a lover for very long."

"Neither do you…"

I dug my nails into the blankets beneath me as hard as I could, to try and stop myself from shaking. It didn't work. "Yes, but I'm not the one who never wants to speak to me again."

Lucien's mouth curled into a smug little smirk. "In that case," he purred, crossing the space between us in a black-robed blur and pinning me to the bed, "allow me to apologize for my misjudgment, and offer you another possible course of action."

"I'm listening." I tried to sound annoyed, but I knew I was too damn relieved that things had gone back to normal for it to convince either of us.

"You will still receive your contracts in the form of dead drops for the foreseeable future, because I have duties that require me to leave this fort and, due to the current… understaffed nature of Cheydinhal, neither of us can spare enough time to idle here until our paths cross every time you complete a contract. However, if you continue to carry out your contracts in an acceptable manner, I may leave you additional instructions on where I might be found when I find myself with extra time on my hands. So that you still have someone to talk to, of course."

"And if I want to do more than just talk?" I asked, trying to wriggle myself out of his grip enough to rub up against him.

"Well…" Lucien held me in place, and nibbled lightly at my ear. "I suppose that could be arranged. I doubt that I will cease to have an interest in you for a very long time…"

"I shouldn't have bothered with putting my armor back on, should I?"

"You really shouldn't have."

Compared to my past experiences with him, Lucien was almost gentle with me this time around, sticking to a slow, even rhythm instead of our usual hard, fast rutting, and keeping me pinned under him the whole time so I couldn't do a damn thing to change it. It was maddening, really. Good, but maddening. Whether he'd just wanted to avoid opening my wounds again, or he was just as relieved that he hadn't lost everything in the Purification as I was, I doubted I'd ever know. Either way, I couldn't put my finger on it, but it felt like something had changed between us – brought us closer, somehow – and even though we'd patched things up, things could never quite go back to the way they were before. Under any other circumstances, thoughts like those would've scared me out of my wits, but I was too comfortable enough with Lucien for it to worry me much. I figured I'd be spending a lot more time with him once things settled down a bit, after all; my getting a bit closer to him was bound to happen sooner or later.

Once we'd both gotten dressed again, and I'd readied myself to go looking for my first dead drop, Lucien said, "Ah, yes. There is one last thing. I have for you a very special gift. Waiting just outside is a magnificent steed named Shadowmere. She has served me well over the years, and I present her now to you, as a token of my trust and… personal investment in your well-being."

"What's wrong with the horse I have now?"

"That poor beast is old, slow, and ill-suited for your current lifestyle. Allowing my Silencer to ride about on such an animal would reflect poorly on me as your Speaker. I'm sure it will appreciate a rest after all you've put it through."

"You're probably right… What's so special about being a Silencer, anyway?"

"The Black Hand is the Dark Brotherhood's ruling council. That hand consists of four Speakers and one Listener. Four fingers and a thumb, as it were. This, you already know. What is not commonly known among our family members is that the Black Hand employs a few… additional numbers. As every hand has fingers, does not every finger have a nail? A claw? A talon? Every finger of the hand, every Speaker, has such a nail. These are the Silencers. Each Speaker employs his or her private assassin, to extend their reach and strike forth as necessary. My previous Silencer perished while fulfilling a contract, before you joined the family. That emptiness has now been filled by you. It is an honor without equal."

"So, I'm your fingernail? That's… not a flattering mental image."

Lucien sighed. "That was not the point… Now go, and may Sithis guide you in this new stage of your life's dark journey."

"Right. May Sithis go with you, too. The dead drop is at Hero Hill, right?"

"Yes. Inside the hollowed-out, moss-covered rock."

"I'll know it when I see it, right? It's not a moss-covered rock on a hill of other, moss-covered rocks?" I'd made enough of a fool of myself already; the last thing I needed was to come crawling back to Fort Farragut because I couldn't find my dead drop.

"Just go; you'll be fine. I wouldn't have chosen that location had I not had the utmost faith in your ability to locate it."

"All right, I'm going…"

I made it up the rope ladder leading out of Fort Farragut without too much pain, and sent looking for the horse Lucien had mentioned. I didn't see why I couldn't make arrangements with whoever ran the Cheydinhal stables to send the paint horse I'd borrowed from Weynon Priory back home, where it could live out the rest of its days in peace. I found a horse that had to be Shadowmere standing by the fort's main entrance. Her glossy, black coat shone almost violet in the sunlight, and unless my eyes were playing tricks on me, her eyes were dark red. They were close enough to brown that I didn't think anyone would notice them, but all the miniature skulls on her bridle and saddle would stick out a little. The skulls definitely seemed like the sort of thing Lucien would decorate his horse with, though, and I could see he'd been drawn to the rest of her. If someone had set out to breed a horse that looked like it belonged in the Dark Brotherhood, I doubted it would've looked any different than Shadowmere.

I walked toward her with slow, quiet steps, and stopped just within arm's reach of her. She stared at me for a moment, flicking her tail while she looked me over, then crossed the distance left between us and tried to eat my hair. I yelped, snatching my ponytail out of her mouth before she could do any real damage to it. Shadowmere looked almost disappointed, like my hair hadn't tasted the way she'd thought it would, then snorted and bent down to nibble at the grass by our feet, instead.

Satisfied that, at the very least, Shadowmere didn't hate me and probably wouldn't try to bite or kick me, I swung myself onto her back, turned her in the general direction of Hero Hill, and gave her sides a gentle kick to urge her forward. I almost fell off her back when she took off at a gallop faster than anything my first horse had ever managed. After trying, and failing, at slowing her down at least half a dozen times, I settled for hanging onto her reins for dear life and keeping her headed in the right direction.

We reached Hero Hill faster than I could've dreamed and, almost like she'd known where we were going, Shadowmere finally listened when I tried to slow her down. She came to a stop on her own next to a large, moss-covered rock. I slid off her back and, after a bit of feeling around, I found a hole in its side with a scroll tucked inside it. It had instructions to kill Celedaen, a necromancer looking to turn himself into a Lich in Leafrot Cave, somewhere east of Bravil, and to look for my next dead drop in Chorrol when I'd finished, written inside it. Which, while it meant that I'd probably be up to my eyeballs in undead as soon as I set foot in the cave, would at least let me make a quick trip to the Shivering Isles to find out what exactly I'd done to myself without going too far out of my way.

I didn't see any reason to put things off any longer, so, once I'd arranged to send Prior Maborel's horse back to Weynon Priory, I set off for Bravil. When I got there, I left Shadowmere at the stables and began the long swim out to the little island that housed the portal to Sheogorath's – well, technically my – plane of Oblivion. Once I'd stepped through the portal, still dripping wet, I decided to just summon Haskill there instead of walking all the way to New Sheoth.

"How my I be of service, my lord?" he asked as he materialized, his tone as flat and vaguely exasperated as always.

I flinched a little at the title. That was going to take some time to get used to, if I ever got used to it at all. "Well, um… How do I get my bits back to what they usually are? I'm a bit stuck at the moment, and it's getting inconvenient…"

"Your body should right itself as soon as your child is born, my lord. I'm not sure what you expected when you decided to breed with that mortal of yours…"

I nearly lost my footing, and took a step backward. "What?"

"You mean you were not aware of your condition? What else could have caused such inflexibility in your physical form?"

"I just thought I'd used some kind of Daedric Prince magic in my sleep! I didn't 'decide' to do anything!"

"Of course. I apologize for my misjudgment, my lord; at times, I forget you only recently came into your title and the powers associated with it. Perhaps I should have explained them to you before you left. I simply assumed that you wanted to have a child with your lover, and made the necessary alterations to yourself to make that possible. It's not unheard of among your fellow Daedric Princes to show their favor for a beloved mortal in such a way. You do know how such things work, I presume? If you were so against the idea of children, you would have done well to take precautions to prevent this from happening."

"This wasn't exactly something I had to worry about before…"

"Well, accident or not, the fact remains that you are with child, my lord. And until nature has run its course, one way or another, I'm afraid you'll be stuck in a form with the necessary organs to facilitate that. Of course, at such an early stage, nothing is set in stone, and things could very well right themselves on their own, but I would advise you to make a decision on the matter sooner rather than later. Now, unless you have any further questions, I have a Daedric realm to keep in order until you are ready to begin your duties."

"That was all…" I stepped back through the portal, my head spinning as I tried to make sense of what I'd just learned. Up until then, my life had made a lot more sense in Tamriel, but I wasn't sure of that anymore.

Under any other circumstances, I'd have probably just found myself some mildly poisonous herbs to chew on and been done with it. I liked children well enough, and I'd always planned to settle down and have a few eventually, but those plans usually involved finding myself a nice wife or husband and buying a farm somewhere, first. The timing couldn't have gotten much worse, either, what with the traitor problem and me being the last regular assassin in Cheydinhal. Still, something about the thought of having a child, and bringing something good out of all the madness I'd gone through over the past few months, sounded better than it should have. Financially, I'd never been in a better situation, and being a parent would give me something to do in between contracts. And, well, it just seemed like the sort of thing I should at least tell Lucien about before acting on any decisions I made, seeing as whatever we had between us seemed to have grown into something more than just casual sex, and he'd probably want to know how I'd had my shapeshifting accident no matter what I chose.

At the same time, I didn't want to risk driving him away by acting like I wanted more from him than he was willing to give. Granted, I supposed I could also end up driving him away by making a decision without him and then trying to cover it up. I sighed. I didn't have the first idea what I was going to do; it seemed like no matter what choice I made, it would be the wrong one. In the end, I decided I'd just wait to make up my mind until I saw Lucien again. Hopefully, I'd have reached some kind of breakthrough by then, and if not, then I hoped that seeing him again might help clear things up.

For the time being, my main concern was getting to Leafrot cave and killing Celedaen before he turned himself into a lich and made my job a hundred times harder. Pushing all my other thoughts to the side, where they belonged, I swam back to the Niben Bay's shore and tried to mentally prepare myself for whatever I'd find shambling about Leafrot Cave.


	21. Dead Drops and Decision-Making

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest changes I made here were adding actual setting descriptions for the "Affairs of a Wizard" quest and adding a lot of development to the Matthias part of "Next of Kin." I do apologize for the awkward, unwieldy length of this, but I just couldn't find a good place to cut this chapter into two pieces, so I left it intact. If its length causes anyone any problems, please let me know, and I'll give splitting it up another try. And, potential minor spoiler, so if you're new to this and wish to remain unspoiled, you might want to scroll past the notes box, but it's probably worth mentioning that this is not a fix-it fic. Things do deviate a bit from canon from this point forward, but their ending remains the same.
> 
> As always, any and all feedback you may have for me is more than welcome and greatly appreciated. Good or bad, nothing makes me happier than knowing what you guys think of my work. :)

Aside from Shadowmere going after my hair again, I made it to Leafrot Cave without much trouble. Once I got there, I left Shadowmere tucked out of sight behind a clump of trees, opened its battered, wooden door, and slipped inside. The door opened into a pitch-dark hallway, lit only by the faint slivers of light that managed to peek through the cracks in the wood. The stone walls of the cramped tunnel around me were cold, but dry, and the wind filled it with an eerie whistling sound every time it blew against the door behind me. Ahead of me in the darkness, I could just make out the glow of a torch. I halfway considered lighting one of my own, so I didn't risk bumping into anything nasty in the dark, but settled for walking slowly and keeping my hand on the wall for balance, instead. I didn't need anyone, or anything, to notice me unless it was absolutely necessary. One step at a time, I felt my way through the darkness until I came to a small, dimly-lit room. I stopped just outside the doorway, and had a look inside. A cluttered desk with a hollowed-out section of wall behind it and crooked shelves of magic supplies and jars of organs and random bits of flesh, which had no business being outside the bodies they'd used to belong to, filled most of its floor space. If the scattered papers and dog-eared books covering the desk were anything to go by, it probably served as Celedaen's workspace, though he seemed to have wandered into a different part of his cave for the time being.

Just as I began to take my first step into the room, I saw something shimmer out of the corner of my eye. I froze, and turned my head toward it to find a cloaked, transparent figure hovering by a tunnel leading deeper into the cave. It looked like it hadn't noticed me yet, at least. Hopefully I could keep it that way until I'd weakened it a little, or kill it, if I was lucky. I had a fairly clear shot from where I stood, so I readied my bow and nocked a silver-tipped arrow onto its string. I took a deep breath to steady myself, took aim at the widest part of its torso, then drew the arrow back and let it fly. The cloaked creature shrieked as the arrow lodged itself in its back, then oozed its way through the creature's transparent body and fell to the floor with a clatter. It whirled around, its eyes glowing with fury out of the dark space beneath its hood as it tried to figure out where the arrow had come from.

Before I could ready my next shot, the creature let out a piercing screech that froze my blood in my veins. No matter what I tried, I couldn't get a single part of me to move. I watched in horror as it glided its way across the room, like it knew exactly where I'd hidden myself in the shadows of the doorway. It came to a stop right in front of me, so close I could feel the chill of its ghostly breath on my face.

Just as it raised its arm to slash at me with its long, wickedly-curved claws, I managed to force myself to move again, and ducked under its arm just in time to keep from getting my throat sliced open. I dashed past it into the room, looking around for something, anything, I could use to fight it off. Both the dagger I'd received from Lucien when he recruited me and the dagger Vicente had given me as a bonus for killing Baenlin would pass right through its ethereal body, and the only silver weapons I had on me were arrows, which I couldn't do much more than poke it with.

As the creature floated closer to me, I saw my chance at fighting it off glinting in the torchlight. A silver dagger lay on a stone shelf behind the desk, and I had it in my hand a heartbeat later. I twisted around and stabbed it through the creature's chest with a tearing sound as the dagger cut through its papery robes and lodged itself in its gooey center. I cried out in pain as it clawed desperately at my arms in an attempt to make me let go of the blade, or yank the blade out of the bubbling ectoplasm surrounding it.

I gritted my teeth and dragged the dagger down and through the creature's body, until it eventually ripped itself free through the creature's right side. It let out one last shriek before crumpling to the ground in a pile of tattered rags and ectoplasm mixed with drops of my blood. I staggered past the puddle to Celdaen's desk, shuffling through the mess of papers and magic supplies on top of it in search of something I could use to stop, or at least slow, the blood flowing out of the gashes in my arms. I found some strips of cloth that looked, and smelled, clean enough, and sat down on the floor to peel off what was left of my shrouded leather vambraces and tend my wounds.

The gashes weren't very deep, but I had a lot of them, and I used most of the cloth just sopping up my blood. Once my arms were mostly blue again, I rubbed enough healing potions on them to close the biggest tears in my skin and wrapped the last of the cloth strips around them, just in case I did something that tore them back open. I just left the remains of my vambraces in my pack; they wouldn't have done me any good in their shredded state, anyway. With that taken care of, I went back to the desk in search of anything that might help me kill Celedaen without needing to get into any more direct fights.

After spending more time than I'd have liked to shuffling through the mess of papers and dusty old books I'd made on the desk in my search for bandages, I found a promising, leather-bound journal with "The Path of Transcendence" carved into its cover. A quick glance at its first page made it clear enough that Celedaen had written it, though I had a hard time making sense of anything he'd written. The whole thing was written in the kind of words rich people used when they wanted to sound smart, and he had a real problem with taking ten words to say things that should've only taken one. My not knowing a damned thing about necromancy probably didn't help things, either. It made my head swim, but I read the journal all the way through, and its last entry gave me an idea. If I understood him right, he'd put his soul into an hourglass, called the Sands of Resolve, that he had to carry with him everywhere so he didn't die before he'd finished transforming himself into a lich. As long as he hadn't finished his transformation, it seemed like I could kill him by just stealing the hourglass out of whatever pocket he'd stashed it in, no muss, no fuss. I just had to find him, first.

I didn't lose any time having a look down the tunnel Celedaen's cloaked… thing had been guarding. It looked empty enough, from what I could see, but after a few feet it twisted into an inky darkness that could've hidden just about anything. I felt my way down the tunnel the same way I'd done with the first one, until my hand hit a stone wall with a splintery wooden door in it.

The section of Leafrot Cave the door opened into had dim, greenish orbs of light attached to its walls at regular intervals which, though they didn't do much to alleviate the cave's damp, eerie feeling, at least gave me a way to see where I was going. They also gave me a nice view of the skeletons and zombies Celedaen had decided to fill the rest of his necromancer hidey-hole with. Luckily for me, they were simple enough to sneak past, and I wouldn't have needed anything special to fight them off with if they had noticed me. Celedaen must have trusted the cloaked ghost guarding his workroom to dispose of any unwelcome guests.

I found Celedaen in a small room, kneeling on a cushion before an altar made of candles and human bones. He'd closed his eyes in some kind of trance or prayer that must have been part of his transformation ritual. I didn't have any trouble getting close to him, and a bulge in one of his pockets gave me a pretty good idea where he'd stashed the Sands of Resolve. All I needed to do was kneel down behind him and slip a hand into his pocket, like I was working the Waterfront again and needed to snatch a coinpurse if I didn't want to starve, then grab hold of the hourglass and yank it out of his pocket. As soon as I'd pulled the last corner of its base free of his pocket, he fell to the floor like a dropped ragdoll, his empty eyes staring up at the ceiling. He didn't even make a noise, first. I smashed the hourglass against a wall, just to be safe, and got the same quiet, empty result. Nothing exploded, no lost souls flew screaming out of the glass; a trickle of purple sand just fell onto the floor, mixing in with the cave dirt.

I crept back the way I'd come, quiet as a skeever, until I realized I needn't have bothered. Every one of Celedaen's undead servants I passed had fallen to the floor, either in a pile of bones or gooey, rotted flesh that couldn't have done anything worse than stink up my boots if I stepped in them. It looked like Celedaen's magic had died with him. Even his magic lights had started to dim, and I half-ran out of the cave from that point on so I didn't risk getting lost in the dark. Anything valuable he might've had stashed away could stay there and rot, for all I cared; it couldn't have been anything worth stumbling over bones in pitch-darkness or falling into putrid zombie guts for.

The sun had set when I reached the outside world again, so I decided to stay the night in Bravil before going to Chorrol and picking up my next contract. I got a room, along with a few more healing potions and some proper bandages, at the Lonely Suitor Lodge, and I gave my arms a rinse in my washbasin and gave them a good re-bandaging before going to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, the gashes my run-in with Celedaen's spectral guardian had left me with had faded to a series of faint, pinkish-white lines. On my way out of the inn, I bought a few apples from the publican for my breakfast, and offered one to Shadowmere in an effort to keep her away from my hair when I reached the stables. She snatched it out of my hand, her teeth snapping through it less than a hair's breadth away from my fingers, and I could've sworn they tapered off into sharp points instead of staying nice and flat, like a horse's teeth should have. Still, sharp teeth or not, she seemed to appreciate the gesture. I actually managed to get myself comfortable in her saddle before she went charging off toward Chorrol, and she settled for a pace that didn't feel like it was meant to scare me off, even if she still ran faster than any other horse I'd seen.

The dead drop orders Lucien had hidden among the roots of Chorrol's great oak tree contained instructions to track down and kill the five members of the Draconis family for my next contract, as well as five hundred septims and a small parcel wrapped in brown cloth. Assassinations weren't easy work, but I couldn't complain about the pay. I opened it to find a new pair of shrouded vambraces, and a note saying the Listener had said I'd need them. I didn't have the first idea how the Listener, whoever they were, could possibly have known that, or gotten in touch with Lucien in time for him to put them in with the rest of my payment, but I wasn't about to look that gift horse in the mouth. New armor was new armor, and I doubted I could have gotten my shredded vambraces repaired into anything useable if I'd wanted to.

The contract wasn't anything out of the ordinary for me until I reached County Bruma. When I reached the farm that should've been Applewatch, and saw an old woman tending to a small patch of vegetables with gentle, patient hands, I wondered if I'd read my directions wrong. I'd known Perennia Draconis wasn't a young woman, given that she had four grown children, but I hadn't expected her to look like someone's sweet little grandmother. As I dismounted and took a few steps toward her yard, she stood, eyes wide as she gasped and clutched at her chest. Then she took a good look at me, laughed a little to herself, and gave me a friendly wave with a dirt-stained hand. Everything about her was just so... normal, compared to all my other contracts; I'd have a harder time carrying this one out than I'd thought.

"Oh! Hello, there. I'm sorry about all that. You startled me; I thought you might have been a bandit, or one of those awful daedra, at first. My nerves get rattled rather easily these days, I'm afraid. Living alone will do that to you. Now, is there something I can help you with?" she asked.

"Um, yes… I'm looking for your children," I replied. As soon as I'd said it, I realized how strange it must have sounded, but I could think up an excuse later, if I needed to. Maybe a dead relative, or the Countess taking a census – something like that.

"My children? Whatever for… oh! Oh, dear, excuse an old woman's stupidity! You're here to pick up my gift list. And a whole day earlier than expected, too! Using your gift service is the smartest thing I've ever done. My children are spread all across Cyrodiil, and it's so hard to shop for them all. So, here's the list of all my precious little ones, though I dare say they're not so little anymore!" She laughed, and handed me a slip of paper. "They grow up so fast, I swear! You'll notice that the list gives each child's location and some suggestions for gifts. Oh, and here's the gold I'm supposed to give you; you'll get the rest once you've completed the job. Now please go. Those children are so dear to me, and I'd really like you to get them something special. Thanks again!" And with that, Perennia pushed a bag of septims into my hands and went back to her yardwork.

I put the slip of paper and coin purse into one of Shadowmere's saddlebags, then just stood and watched her for a moment, turning my dagger over in my hands. I halfway considered leaving her alive, and coming back once I'd finished with her children, before realizing that I'd only make her suffer more, that way. No parent wanted to outlive their children, and if she lived long enough for her real gift service to show up, she'd have the guards after me in no time. Unless I wanted to toss the entire contract out the window, I needed to kill her right then. I sighed, shook my head to clear it of my unease at murdering a defenseless old woman in cold blood, then crept up behind her and cut her throat in a quick, clean slice. Before she could hit the ground, or I could see the growing puddle of blood beneath her, I turned and walked back to where I'd left Shadowmere. If I never laid eyes on the results of my work, I could pretend it had never happened, and her ghost wouldn't haunt my dreams that night.

I read over her gift list on my way back to the Silver Road. As misguided – and overpriced, for the hundred septim budget she'd given me – as a lot of it seemed, I felt tears welling up in my eyes at all the care Perennia had put into it. What kind of monster would have wanted someone like her dead, I didn't know, but I hoped they had a damned good reason for it. But my job was killing people, not questioning orders, and if I hadn't quit over the Purification, I wasn't going to quit for some family I didn't even know. I'd come too far to give up, now.

First, I stopped by Muck Valley Cavern, where Sibylla Draconis lived. I could smell the horde of animals the gift list had said that she kept there from outside, and when I pried its battered door open just a crack, I could make out several sleeping wolves curled up around a half-naked woman in the gloom. Her lack of any sort of armor would have made her easy to pick off with an arrow, if my shot hadn't missed her, smacked into a wall, and let everything in the cave know I was there. In a heartbeat, she'd leapt to her feet, a rusty mace clutched in both hands, and charged me. I slammed the door shut to try and buy myself some time to make a new plan, but she just smashed right through it, followed her pack of wolves and several rats. I barely managed to climb a tree before they'd all caught up to me.

In the end, Shadowmere bailed me out of that one by giving Sibylla a good trampling. With their leader dead, her animals scattered and ran off into the forest, leaving me with a clear patch of grass to hop down onto. If Shadowmere had anything against helping me with my contract, she didn't show any signs of it I could see, and once I'd convinced her to quit stomping on Sibylla's corpse, we were on our way to the Imperial City and Matthias Draconis.

He ended up giving me a lot more trouble than his sister. After spending the better part of a week following him around the city, trying to catch him alone where no one else could see him, I hadn't come a step closer to finishing his part of the contract than when I'd started. Even when he went home at night, he had a housemate who slept right by the stairs. The housemate was a light sleeper, too; I'd tried breaking into the house at night, once, and he'd woken at just the sound of my lockpick in the door. Aside from Matthias, the only person who'd gotten into the house was a prostitute – a pretty, red-haired Dunmer girl – he'd bought for a couple hours on his way home from the Bloated Float one night.

Which, after a bit of thought, gave me the best idea I'd had all week. If he'd taken her home with him, I didn't see any reason he wouldn't be interested in broadening his horizons a bit, and I didn't look too far off from what he liked for him to give me a try. Not that I planned to let things get that far, if I managed to catch his eye – I didn't much like the thought of anyone but Lucien seeing me naked in the state I'd gotten myself stuck in – but I'd had worse. Even if things did go that far, it wasn't like I had to worry about getting pregnant. I had nothing to lose.

The next day, I bought myself a dress that was just revealing enough without showing my scars, and dug out my old cosmetics from the drawer I'd stashed them in back when I'd first left the city with the Amulet of Kings. A bit of kohl around my eyes and powder to make my skin look less chapped and uneven from spending so much time out in the weather, and I looked like my old self again. After I'd untied my hair, letting it fall down around my shoulders, and given it a good brushing, I went looking for Matthias' girl, hoping she'd have some idea how I could get his attention. I didn't have the time to pick a spot on one of the streets he used and wait Divines knew how long for him to notice me the normal way, and if I went after him without him approaching me, first, he'd probably think I was working with the city guard and avoid me like the plague.

I found her in the same spot as the night before. Slipping back into the acts I'd used to put on came easier than I'd expected, and I didn't have any trouble scrunching my face into a worried look as I scurried past the Bloated Float to her side.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know Matthias Draconis?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow and looked me over for a moment, then shrugged and replied, "I see him almost every Fredas; why d'you ask?"

"There's, um..." I turned my eyes downward, forcing a blush onto my face as I rested a hand on my belly. "Something I need to talk to him about."

"Oh." She gave me a bit of a smile and put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure you'll catch up to him, eventually. Don't you worry, love."

"That's just it, though." I chewed my lower lip, and rubbed a handful of my skirt between my fingers. "I've tried catching up with him, before, but he just pretends I don't exist unless he comes to me first, and I can't afford to wait too long, in case... you know. Do you think... Do you think, maybe, I could meet him here, next Fredas, instead of you? He might be willing to talk to me, then..."

"I don't know... He pays real well, and I need the coin right now; I'm savin' up for some things."

"I'll pay you." I dug the coin purse Perennia had given me out of my pocket. By rights, I should've offered her a lot more, seeing as I'd be taking a lot more than one night of business away from her in the long run, but I didn't want her to get suspicious of me. "I've got around a hundred septims in here, if that's enough. I know it's not much, but it's all I've got saved right now."

"This is real important to you, ain't it?"

"I-it is. I don't want to... you know, if I don't have to. If I can just get him to listen to me, I'm sure come around to the idea!"

"I dunno if he will. You might be better off keeping that, for whatever you end up doing with that problem of yours."

"But I've got to at least try, don't I? Please, you're my last hope..." I made my eyes as big as I could, and tried and failed to make myself cry a little. Tears had never come easy to me.

"All right, then. But don't say I didn't warn you." She took the coin purse, and tucked it away in her bodice. "I'd stay quiet about things if he's drunk, though. You know how mean he can get."

"O-of course! Thank you!" I smiled, genuinely; that had gone better than I expected.

"Don't mention it. You get back to your own corner, now; don't want it to look like I'm not taking customers." She frowned, then reached out and tucked a stray strand of my hair back into place. "Also, I know the 'Champion of Cyrodiil' look sells right now, but I'd rethink that hair dye, if I were you. You look a bit unnatural."

"Um, thanks. Will do," I replied, and started making my way back home. Comments on my hair aside, I'd gotten everything I came for.

I spent the next several days at home, mostly, waiting for Fredas to roll around again. I didn't want to risk making Matthias paranoid, or change his schedule, by killing another one of his siblings, and beyond that I didn't have many other places to go. When my wait finally came to an end, I found myself almost looking forward to lying my way into bed with him; at least it gave me something to do. I took a bit more care with my dress and make-up the second time I put them on, hoping Matthias wouldn't care that I wasn't who he'd be expecting if I made myself look like an appealing enough substitute, and tucked my dagger into my sleeve instead of wearing it on my belt so I wouldn't look armed. If he decided he didn't like what he saw, I'd have wasted all that time for nothing.

I didn't see Matthias' usual girl anywhere near the Bloated Float when I got there, and me standing in her place caught Matthias' attention well enough when he left the inn that night. He gave me a confused, almost angry look at first, but I managed to smooth things over well enough by telling him that she'd gotten sick and let me take her place until she got better. A flutter of my eyelashes later, he put his arm around my waist and walked me back to his house. His housemate raised an eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything, and I covered my sigh of relief with a cough when Matthias shut and latched his thick, wooden bedroom door behind us. I wouldn't have to worry about making too much noise, at least.

The pieces of his armor made a dull, thumping sound as I unfastened them and let them fall to the floor, and when he distracted himself with untying the laces on my bodice, I knew I'd found my best shot at killing him without a struggle. I wrapped my arms around his neck, so I could get my dagger out of my sleeve without him seeing, and to keep my dress from sliding off my shoulders and taking the dagger with it on its way to the floor. I pulled him in for a kiss as he finished with my bodice lacings, to hold him steady, then plunged it into the side of his neck, yanked it back out, and stepped out of his gushing blood's splash range as he fell to his knees, clutching at the wound. I expected him to cry out, or at least try to grab hold of me, but he just sat there, giving me a confused, almost sad look as he bled out. The look didn't fade after he breathed his last, ragged breath, and the sickly, pale color his face had taken on after losing so much blood made his blank stare downright unsettling. I shuddered; I couldn't have gotten any enjoyment out of that if I'd wanted to.

For the next few minutes, I stayed in Matthias' room, trying to avoid making eye contact with his corpse. Every now and again, I thumped on his bedposts and cried out his name, or whatever else popped into my head, to make things convincing for his housemate if he was listening in. Once I felt like things had gone on for about as long as they had any right to, I tousled my hair, smeared my makeup a bit, and laced my dress back up just enough to keep things from falling out on my walk home before letting myself out of Matthias' room. I made sure to shut the door behind me, then walked down his stairs and out the front door. His housemate didn't even bother to give me a second look.

The next morning, once I'd gotten back into my armor and made myself look like as much of a man as I ever did, I picked up Shadowmere from the Imperial City stables and rode off to the Drunken Dragon Inn, owned by Andreas Draconis. I rented myself a room there, then snuck downstairs after nightfall and cut his throat in his sleep, like I was used to doing. It felt better than my last two kills, and I felt like I'd lifted a weight off my shoulders as I made my way to Leyawiin, and the last surviving member of the Draconis family, Caelia.

After a few days of watching her, it looked like she spent even less time alone and indoors than Matthias had. Even when she'd finished with her work as a guard for the day, she slept in the city watch barracks surrounded by at least one or two waking guards, and she didn't seem to share her brother's vices. As I lay awake in the room I'd rented at the Five Claws Lodge, eating an apple as I tried to decide whether or not I could catch her unawares while she was on patrol and make it out of the city without getting used for target practice by her coworkers, I remembered the poisoned apple I had tucked away in my pack. When I dug it out, it looked as fresh as it had over three weeks earlier; the poison must have done something to preserve it. If I played my cards right, I'd just found my murder weapon.

I spent the next day waiting for a chance to get close to Caelia. When she wandered into a good-sized crowd, I bumped into her, and swapped out the poisoned apple for her usual bunch of grapes while she was distracted. I lingered beneath an open window at the Three Sisters Inn when she stopped there for her lunch, and when the peaceful silence inside turned to screams, I knew my plan had worked. Before anyone else had a chance to notice the commotion, I left the city – careful to walk, not run – and steered Shadowmere toward Skingrad, where I was supposed to look for my next dead drop orders.

I found a bag of septims and a new set of orders telling me to assassinate a Bruma-dwelling Khajiit by the name of J'Ghasta inside a well in Skingrad's castle courtyard. That was all good and well, but I ended up paying more attention to a smaller slip of paper wedged into a tiny crack in the well's wooden cover. I might have missed it entirely if the wind hadn't picked up and sent it rustling as it almost flew free of its hiding place. I had to climb onto the well's edge and stretch my arm out as far as it could go to reach it, but I got it in the end, minus a chunk of one of its corners that tore off when I yanked it free. It had nothing on it aside from the words 'West Weald Inn, second floor, second room on the left' written in small, neat handwriting, but that was more than enough to get my heart beating faster, out of happiness and a bit of fear. The feelings didn't mix well.

My body had yet to right itself, which meant that my little problem didn't seem to be going away on its own. I'd have respected it for surviving everything I put myself through, if it hadn't been so damn inconvenient. Still, if it had made it this far, it just wouldn't have felt fair if I didn't at least give it a fighting chance at life. I didn't like being stuck with my bits switched, but knowing that it wouldn't last forever made it bearable, at least for the next several months. Lucien and I needed to have a talk.

I placed my reward for the Draconis contract into my pack and made my way to the inn. Just like the note had promised, I found the second door on the left of its second floor unlocked. I slipped inside, and almost jumped out of my skin when I saw Lucien sitting at a desk, waiting for me, instead of being invisible in a corner somewhere.

"I see you found my note." Lucien stood and took a few steps toward me, and with a flick of his wrist, the door locked itself behind me. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

"I'm not the one who did everything short of casting an invisibility spell on that note to keep it hidden," I replied. "Why couldn't you have just put it with your orders?"

"Because," he purred, pressing himself against me. "You wouldn't have had to put in any extra effort of your 'bonus,' otherwise."

I sighed. As much as I wished I could let myself relax and press back against him like I usually did, I didn't know when I'd see Lucien again, and putting things off wouldn't make them any easier. "Much as I'd like to claim that bonus, there's something we need to talk about."

"If you're referring to your latest contract, then I've already told you all I know. You'll need to do the rest for yourself."

"No, the contract seems simple enough. An unarmed Khajiit can't be that bad compared to the necromancer you sent me after."

"Khajiit?" Lucien furrowed his brow. "You are supposed to be tracking down a Breton."

"No, he's a Khajiit." I dug out his latest orders and handed them to him. "It says so right here."

Lucien unrolled the parchment and read it over. As soon as he laid eyes on what was written on it, he went pale. "We need to go to Bruma. Now."


	22. Set in Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest changes in this chapter were some major dialogue adjustments, particularly in the Black Hand meeting, and shifting a random, disembodied paragraph in Lucien's POV into a more logical place in the chapter after this one. In the first version of this chapter, the meeting with the Black Hand just turned into an awkward office meet-and-greet session, which actually sounds kind of awesome, when I put it that way, but was not awesome in its execution. I hope that this works a little bit better.

"What's going on?" I asked, jogging beside Lucien as I struggled to match his long strides on our way out of the inn and toward the city stables. He wasn't that much taller than me, but the few inches between us might as well have been miles, considering the difference they made in our respective walking speeds.

"Someone has compromised your dead drop orders and, had their sabotage gone unnoticed, would have pitted you against another Speaker." Lucien grabbed my wrist and half-dragged me down the street behind him. I didn't know if it actually made me go any faster, but at least it meant he wouldn't lose me. "Whether it was an attempt on your life or his, I do not know, but J'Ghasta must be informed of this immediately."

"Wouldn't it be faster for you to go alone, then? You could take Shadowmere, and I could meet you there, later. I'm still not used to how fast she goes; I think I'm slowing her down."

"Perhaps, but until the traitor has been caught, no one is safe alone, and they now have reason to target your for – albeit inadvertently – thwarting their latest scheme. I did not convince the Black Hand to spare your life for you to lose it by running off on your own to face an enemy you are no match for."

"Thanks, I guess," I said as we passed through the city gates. I wished that Lucien had had a bit more faith in my skills than that, but I supposed I could understand it, given the circumstances. Anything that had Lucien so obviously worried wasn't something to be taken lightly, and I had to admit that I felt safer with him than without him.

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when you collected your latest orders? Anything at all?"

"No. If I had, I would've said something about it earlier. I'm not stupid."

"And I don't suppose you exercised any caution in reading my note or walking to the inn afterward, either…"

"Not really. Why does it matter, though?"

"Because if the traitor was watching you, they are now aware that their plans may well have gone astray, and had more than sufficient opportunity to leave the city and attempt to reach Bruma before we do."

"Oh, gods…"

Lucien sighed. "At the very least, we caught this early enough to salvage the situation. Had you simply run off on that 'contract,' there's no telling how much of our family's blood might have been spilled."

"If J'Ghasta is anything like you, probably just mine." I shuddered at the thought as we reached the stables. Shadowmere met us at the gate, but none of the other horses gave any sign that they so much as recognized Lucien. He must not have found the time to replace her, yet. "Really, though, how are we getting ourselves to Bruma? We only have one horse between us, and we'll never get there in time if we go on foot."

"Even with two riders, Shadowmere will be our fastest option. Surely you've noticed that she's no ordinary horse, by now. She won't have any trouble carrying us both." Lucien swung himself into Shadowmere's saddle in a single, fluid motion, and she held herself still as a statue while she waited for me to clamber on behind him. "I suggest you hold on tightly."

As soon as I'd locked my arms around Lucien's waist, Shadowmere took off like she had the fires of Oblivion behind her. "While we're on the subject of her not being normal, are you sure she's all right with you giving her to me?"

"Has she given you reason to believe otherwise?"

"She tries to eat my hair."

Lucien went quiet for a moment, then gave a bit of a chuckle as he replied, "Perhaps she mistook you for a milk thistle. Your hair is a good match for their blossoms, and she always has had a fondness for them; she seems to enjoy the prickles on their leaves and stalks. Sithis knows you're stuck to me like one at the moment…"

"Well, I've been compared to worse things." I tightened my grip on him and tried not to look at how fast the world was passing by around us. "You never seemed to mind my clinging to you before now, though."

"I don't recall saying it bothered me."

"Good. Because I'm not letting go until you stop the damn horse." Falling off a horse moving at a slow walk hurt like Oblivion when I hit the ground; I didn't have the first idea what falling off a galloping Shadowmere felt like, and I didn't have the least bit of interest in finding out. And, seeing as we needed to get to Bruma as fast as we could, I didn't want to delay us by forcing Lucien to turn around and come back for me.

The rest of our ride to Bruma passed by in silence. Once we'd made it past the guards at the city gates, every muscle in my body screamed at me to start running, but Lucien wouldn't go any faster than the fast walk he'd used getting us out of Skingrad, so I forced myself to slow down and stay at his side. Even if I got to the house ahead of him, I'd probably just get myself mistaken for the traitor and killed.

Lucien knocked on the door several times when we reached J'Ghasta's house, in a pattern that must have meant something. We stood there, waiting, for what felt like hours, but no one opened the door or knocked back. After giving the knock a second try, Lucien sighed, ordered me to stand watch in case any guards decided to stop by, and knelt down to pick the lock. I didn't hear anything more from him until the last of the lock's tumblers clicked into place and the door swung open, in less time than it usually took me to unlock my own front door.

As soon as I'd followed him inside, Lucien shut the door behind us. He muttered something under his breath, staring into the darkness around us the whole time, and made a gesture with his hands. A ball of light flowed out of his fingers and attached itself to the ceiling, casting a pale light on the sturdy wooden room around us, and the reason why no one had answered the door. Just a few paces away from us, over the top of a trapdoor, the mutilated corpse of what had once been a Khajiit lay sprawled out in a pool of his own blood.

J'Ghasta's torso had been flayed open from his shoulders to just above the waist of his ragged pants, showing off his wet, glistening insides. Deep cuts covered his face and arms, where his dried blood had stained his tawny fur a reddish-brown color. One of his ears had been all but torn off, and a jagged, red gash stretched almost all the way across his neck. His face was still twisted into a snarl, and his staring, lifeless eyes still had a bit of a glare in them.

I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away, clapping a hand over my mouth as I tried not to puke. Or think too hard about how easily I could've been splattered all over that floor, instead. I took a few deep breaths, to try and steady myself, but it just filled my lungs with the stench of blood and death, which pushed me over the edge and sent me running for the nearest uncovered barrel. Once my stomach had emptied itself, my legs gave out and I slid to the floor, my arms still wrapped around the barrel's sides. I couldn't understand it; I'd seen worse things in Oblivion, and moved right past them, but something about finding such a fresh body in that state, outside of a hellscape made of fire and flesh, made it a hundred times worse. That kind of gore just didn't make sense inside someone's cozy little home.

Somewhere behind me, I heard Lucien cry out, followed by the thump of his knees hitting the floor. "We are too late…" he rasped, in the same voice he'd fallen into while he talked me into carrying out the Purification.

With a shudder, I pulled myself together enough to scoot across the floor to his side. I put a hand on his shoulder, to try and give him at least a bit of comfort. Finding my voice didn't come easy after the shock of finding J'Ghasta like that, with the taste of vomit still filling my mouth, but I managed to choke out a strained, "It… it's not your fault. There's nothing we could have done."

Lucien sighed, and dragged J'Ghasta's eyelids shut. "He is now at the side of our Dread Father; nothing can be done for him beyond avenging his death. We need to search the house. The traitor must have left something behind."

After searching every nook and cranny of the house and the training room beneath it, though, we couldn't find any sign beyond J'Ghasta's corpse that the traitor had so much as set foot inside. Splatters of blood covered the walls and floor, but there was no way of knowing whether it had belonged to the traitor or J'Ghasta. J'Ghasta had a fair bit of blood on his claws, but not enough for it to seem likely that he'd done any serious damage to the traitor in their scuffle, and whatever injuries he had caused couldn't have been anything that a few healing potions couldn't erase. We'd arrived soon enough after the traitor that J'Ghasta's body was still warm, and somehow we still weren't any closer to catching them.

I flopped down on a crate, exhausted from the day's events paired with a lack of sleep. "What happens now?"

"We get some rest, and then travel to Bravil. That is where our Listener resides, and he has called a meeting of the Black Hand at his home tomorrow. We can inform the others of what has transpired here when it begins."

"By now, it's probably scheduled for today, isn't it?" I yawned. "It's got to be past midnight…"

"All the more reason to find ourselves a room," Lucien replied, taking my arm and helping me to my feet. I leaned on him more than I cared to admit as he led me out of the house and back onto Bruma's streets. "With the traitor's recent activity, and known obsession with Cheydinhal, we'll both need to keep our wits about us, and sleep deprivation is… detrimental to one's higher thought processes."

"Sleep sounds good; I… damn it all," I grumbled. When I noticed Lucien looking down at me, one eyebrow raised, I tried to explain myself by continuing, "I still need to talk to you about something, first… And I don't know if you're going to like it."

"I'm listening," Lucien said as we started climbing the flight of stairs that led to Bruma's upper level. He must've preferred the Jerall View Inn to Olav's Tap and Tack. "I assure you, nothing you say could make this night any worse."

"Well, um… It's a funny story, really. You're not going to believe this, but- Well, that's new." I stopped dead in my tracks, taking a good, hard look at a statue someone had put up by Bruma's north gate. I pulled free of Lucien and took a few steps toward it, trying to convince myself it couldn't possibly be what I thought it was. "It almost looks like…"

My fears came true when I reached the statue's base, and found myself staring up at a giant, stone me, dressed in my Arena armor and holding a lit torch aloft, its crackling flames casting an orange glow on my face. They'd given me an awful scowl, and made my eyebrows much too thick; I looked angry. A small plaque leaning against one of my feet gave a short, over-dramatic, and dead wrong account of how I'd single-handedly defended Bruma against the hordes of Oblivion. "Oh gods, no…"

"It seems you've become quite the celebrity, Champion…" Lucien purred. I turned around to find him standing right beside me – instead of a few paces behind me, where I'd left him – his lips curled into that smug little smirk of his. At least one of us was enjoying my monument.

"Don't remind me." I groaned. "If they had to build a giant statue of me, the least they could've done is get the story right. I didn't save Bruma on my own; I hardly even killed any daedra."

Lucien chuckled. "After everything that's happened, the love and adoration of the people of Cyrodiil is what you find most upsetting? You certainly have your priorities in order, my Silencer…"

"I'm pregnant. I'm allowed to not make sense."

"What?" His smirk faded into a look of disbelief.

"Well, it turns out I'm stuck like this because things worked out a little too well when I woke up with my bits switched and we decided to give them a try. I'm pregnant. It's… definitely yours."

"This is what you wanted to talk to me about?"

I nodded.

"What do you intend to do about it?" Lucien asked, his tone and face unreadable.

"I'm still trying to figure that out," I replied. "I kind of like the thought of keeping it, if you'd be willing to help me with things, but," I sighed, "I know this couldn't have happened at a worse time, and I'm not against getting rid of it, if that's what works best right now."

"And what sort of 'help' would you expect me to provide?"

"I don't know..." I shrugged. "I'm not suggesting marriage or anything; I just don't want to do this alone. Maybe if you'd take care of it while I'm out on contracts, help pay for anything it ends up needing, handle part of the late-night crying so I can at least get a little bit of sleep... hold my hair back when I puke? That sort of thing."

"That sounds reasonable."

"Really? You're... actually considering it, then?"

"Yes. If that's all you'd require of me, I have no objections to assisting you in raising our child. Provided that's still what you want, of course. Whatever my thoughts on the matter are, I have no authority to dictate what you can and cannot do with your own body."

"I guess that's what we're doing, then."

"You're a little over a month along at this point, correct?"

"That's how long I've been stuck like this."

"Good. I expect you to continue fulfilling your duties as my Silencer until your condition becomes a hindrance to your abilities. I would advise against trying to use it as an excuse for slacking off before that point, however."

"That's fine by me. I'd get bored just sitting around, anyway."

"Excellent."

I sighed. "Does everything always have to be about business with you?"

"Of course not, my dear Silencer…" Lucien replied. He pulled me in for a kiss, then thought better of it and pressed his lips to my forehead, instead. I didn't hold it against him, really. My mouth still tasted a bit pukey; I wouldn't have wanted to kiss me, either. "I assure you, our relationship outside of your contracts is strictly pleasure-oriented."

"Would it kill you to use my name, then? I do have one, you know."

"If that is what you desire, Remy," he purred. Even with a queasy stomach and my nerves on edge, his voice sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Now, if you've finished with your statue, it's past time we found ourselves a room."

"Right. I think I've seen enough of this thing to last me a lifetime, already…"

The publican at the Jerall View Inn gave us a bit of a strange look when we walked in, but didn't ask us any questions when we asked to rent a room for the next few hours. Once the door was shut and locked behind us, and Lucien had seated himself on the bed, I made a run for the washbasin and rinsed out my mouth until it tasted normal again. I slipped out of my armor and joined Lucien on the bed as soon as I'd finished, pressing myself against him as I tried to make myself comfortable. It all felt familiar to me, somehow, in a way I couldn't explain until I thought back to the last time I'd stayed there.

"Lucien?" I asked, not bothering to lift my head off my pillow to check whether he was awake or not.

"Yes?"

"Isn't this the same room I was staying in when you recruited me?"

Lucien paused for a moment before replying, "That it is. Why, are you planning on tackling me to the floor again?"

I laughed. "No. If you wanted to kill me, I'm pretty sure you would've done it by now; I know you're safe. Might still tackle you later, though, when I've got enough energy to actually do something with you once I've got you on the floor."

"Fair enough."

Lucien didn't seem like he planned on lying down any time soon, so I shifted myself off of my pillow and halfway onto his lap. I just felt better there, for some reason, and he didn't seem to mind. He even put his hand on my back, like he actually wanted me there. Even though I knew it didn't make me any safer, it still pushed the worries I had about the traitor attacking us to the back of my mind. I'd fallen asleep almost as soon as my eyes shut.

All too soon, I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes, and found Lucien sitting in the exact same position as when I'd fallen asleep, fully clothed and completely unrumpled. I couldn't tell if he'd gone the whole night without getting a wink of sleep, or just knew how to fix himself up in a hurry.

"Are you prepared to bring news of J'Ghasta's death to the rest of the Black Hand?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I shrugged. "They're not going to blame me for all this, are they? If they're anything like you, I don't want to have all of them angry with me at once."

"The rest of the Black Hand will not hold you responsible for J'Ghasta's death, nor will they seek your life as retribution for it."

"You're sure about that?"

"As sure as my name is Lucien Lachance."

"Really? Because I'll eat my boots if that's your real name."

"It's the only name that means anything to me, and the only one I care to acknowledge; that should be more than enough for it to be considered 'real.'"

"All right..."

As soon as I'd splashed some water from the washbasin on my face, to wake myself up as much as keep myself clean, and worked my way back into my armor, we set off for Bravil. Neither of us talked much on the way there, or during the walk from Bravil's stables to a cozy little house near the statue of the Lucky Old Lady. Lucien knocked on the door in the same pattern he'd used at J'Ghasta's house, and a few moments later, a Bosmer, dressed in simple clothes made of fabric much too fancy for their design, flung it wide open. After taking a good, hard look at Lucien, he smiled and waved us both inside.

"Welcome, Speaker," he said. "And your new Silencer, I presume? It's past time he was formally presented to the Black Hand. As soon as J'Ghasta arrives, we can begin our meeting. Until then, take your usual place with the others."

"Yes, Listener," Lucien replied. He motioned for me to follow him, and led me into a small, dimly-lit room. A fireplace sat against its rear wall, and a table surrounded by five chairs took up most of its floor. Two men, an old Imperial and a sour-looking Dunmer, sat around the table, both dressed in the same black robes as Lucien. They both looked up at us as soon as we stepped into the room. Both of their gazes lingered on me the longest, like they were staring right through me, and I took a step closer to Lucien to try and shake them off. It didn't work.

"I'm afraid J'Ghasta will not be attending our meeting today," Lucien said, his voice shattering the blanket of quiet that had settled over the room. "He lies dead in his home, murdered by the traitor my sanctuary was wrongfully Purified in an effort to eliminate."

"This is a serious accusation, Lucien," the Listener said, in the same warning tone my mother had used whenever she caught me in a lie. "You have sufficient evidence to confirm your suspicions, I presume?"

"Of course, Listener. I have been communicating with my Silencer through dead drops, and yesterday he came to me with a set of orders that had been tampered with. Instead of the latest victim I assigned him, the orders he found told him to travel to Bruma and murder J'Ghasta. When he brought this treachery to my attention, we made our way to Bruma as quickly as possible, but were ultimately too late to warn J'Ghasta of his peril. We found him dead in his home, with no trace of his killer."

The Listener shook his head. "This is troubling news, indeed… I'll send word to his Silencer, at once. Arquen has been a part of our family almost as long as her late Speaker; she shouldn't have any trouble governing the Bruma sanctuary in his stead."

"What did you think would happen if you couldn't be bothered to give your own Silencer his orders in person?" the sour-looking Dunmer asked, glaring daggers at Lucien. "I told you those theatrics of yours were going to get someone killed one day, and here we are. I hope you're pleased with yourself."

"And I suppose your penchant for roasting anyone who irritates you alive is never going to cause us any trouble, Uvani?" Lucien replied, looking at Uvani in the same way a cat looked at a mouse caught in its paws. At that point, I'd have killed to not be in the same room as either of them.

"That is enough out of both of you," the Listener snapped. "The traitor in our midst has caused quite enough chaos as it is; I will not have it increased by your petty squabbling."

"But can we be certain it was the traitor who murdered J'Ghasta, and not Lachance's Silencer?" the old Imperial asked. "Perhaps the Purification of Cheydinhal eliminated everyone but the traitor." He turned to me, his eyebrows furrowed. "Tell me, boy, why we should believe your convenient little story about false orders?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing but a gasping wheeze came out. There wasn't a single speck of evidence to prove I hadn't murdered J'Ghasta, and I needed to defend myself to the same people who'd decided the whole rest of the Cheydinhal sanctuary needed to die because one of them might have been the traitor. I was doomed.

Lucien put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know my Silencer, Belisarius. Crude and absurd as his methods may be, his kills are quick and clean, and J'Ghasta's corpse, like those of all the traitor's other victims, was mutilated almost beyond recognition. J'Ghasta's death was not his work; I would stake my life on it."

"Fair enough." Belisarius gave a wheezing, raspy laugh. "And a fitting choice of words, under the circumstances. Let's just hope that wager of yours pays off, in the end."

I let myself slump against Lucien, holding in a sigh of relief. He put an arm around my waist, to help hold me up. If we hadn't been surrounded by people I really didn't want to think I'd seduced him into believing me, I'd have kissed him.

The Listener cleared his throat. "As we all know that the traitor was not, in fact, killed in the Cheydinhal Purification, we must all be on our guard once more. All of your, keep your Silencers close, and continue to monitor the assassins in your Sanctuary for any suspicious behavior. Should you uncover any information on the traitor's identity, I want it brought to me immediately. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Listener," everyone else said, almost in unison. All I could manage was a nod.

"Good." The Listener turned to me, his eyes soft with pity that almost made me miss the other Speakers' cold stares. "Welcome to the Black Hand, Remy. I hope that soon you will be able to see us under better circumstances." He clapped his hands together and turned back to the rest of the room. "Now then, while there are matters that need to be discussed, in light of recent events I feel that they will be best left to our next meeting, when we will, Sithis willing, have all of our fingers present. You are all dismissed; go now and ensure that J'Ghasta's death was not in vain by seeing to the protection of your respective branches of our family. I will send you your orders and lists of contracts shortly. May Sithis be with you all."

"So, now what?" I asked as I followed Lucien out of the house and back to the stables.

"Now, we wait and hope that the traitor is stopped before any more of our brothers and sisters are killed."

"There isn't anything else we can do?"

"Until we uncover another lead as to the traitor's identity, no."

"This is bad, then, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Lucien sighed. "And I fear it will only grow worse before the end."


	23. Mistaken Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest changes I made here were changing this chapter's beginning from a directionless mess of dull filler into something structured and, hopefully, more entertaining. The first version of this chapter was just bad in a lot of places, and I ended up throwing out almost its entire first half.

Lucien didn't say a word during the rest of our walk to Bravil's stables, or the long ride from there to Fort Farragut. Granted, I didn't really have anything to say, either, but it still made everything feel eerie and uncomfortable. Something just felt off about spending hours with my arms wrapped around a man who might as well have been a statue. Less than a day had passed since our last normal time together in Skingrad, and I already missed him getting exasperated with me, and the way his eyes twinkled in the shadows of his hood when I did something that amused him or made him laugh. That had always been fun; silently worrying about a traitor while sharing a horse with him wasn't.

I ended up spending most of the ride focused on trying to have as little contact with Lucien as possible, to keep from feeling how tense and rigid - and not in the good way - he was, without falling off Shadowmere in the process. It wasn't enjoyable, by any stretch of the word, but at least it gave me something to do other than worry myself sick by thinking too hard about what the traitor might do next. Or who they might kill next. I breathed a sigh of relief when we reached Fort Farragut, and I could finally let go of Lucien and move freely again.

"While you are, of course, free to do as you please, I would advise that you remain here with me until further progress has been made in uncovering the traitor's identity," Lucien said. "The Dark Guardians patrolling my halls provide a sense of security you are unlikely to find anywhere else, and Fort Farragut's location and purpose as my home are known only to the rest of the Black Hand. Beyond that, there is an undeniable safety in numbers, at times such as this, and together we represent a less appealing target than either of us do alone."

"I'll stay here for as long as you're willing to keep me," I replied, following him through the trapdoor in the base of a hollowed-out tree that led straight into his living quarters. Lucien didn't seem to have relaxed any, but with the traitor still alive and active, the last thing I wanted was to be alone. I'd take a quiet, jittery Lucien over someone who'd killed a Speaker and had the rest of the Black Hand on edge any day. I wouldn't enjoy it much until he'd had some time to calm down, but at least I knew he wouldn't kill me.

What I hadn't counted on, though, was how boring things at Lucien's fort would be. Almost as soon as his feet hit the floor, he'd gone to work at his alchemy table, fussing over some potion or poison, and left me alone with nothing but my thoughts for company. And after everything that had just happened, my thoughts did not make for pleasant company.

I tried to distract myself as best I could, but it didn't take me more than an hour or two to exhaust what little entertainment I had. Of course, by entertainment, I meant doodling on a couple blank pages in my journal with a stick of charcoal I found, then ripping them out and tearing them into little pieces until Lucien asked me to stop making a mess of his floor, but it had been better than nothing, while it lasted. I tried my hand at helping Lucien with his alchemy after that, but he ended up banishing me from his workspace after I got a little too rough with some fire salts and caused a minor explosion that almost set his robes on fire. I didn't think I'd be trying my hand at alchemy again any time soon. I was probably better off just buying whatever potions I needed, anyway.

Lucien had books on a few of his shelves, and I had a try at reading them, but most of them were full of magicka nonsense I couldn't have made sense of if I'd wanted to, alchemy recipes, or stuffy old scholars rambling about the Dark Brotherhood's history. He had a few plays, too, but I'd already read most of them and didn't have much interest in reading the others. I wasn't quite bored enough to try and make sense of things written centuries ago, with words that no one alive had ever actually used, just because they were 'classical,' and that made them important for some reason. The last time I'd read all the way through something like that, it ended with a man accidentally sleeping with his own mother and then poking his own eyes out, all because he couldn't wait his damn turn at a crossroads. Never again.

So, I had nothing to do aside from lie back on Lucien's bed, picking at a few loose threads in his blanket while I tried to make out the shadowy outlines of his Dark Guardians as they shambled through the mist on the other side of the chamber's sturdy, iron gate. Even I couldn't have rightly said why I did it, but eventually I picked up my bow and decided to try and use them as target practice. I never actually hit one, and most of my arrows ended up clattering off the gate instead of flying through the gaps in it. I'd built up a good-sized pile of them on the floor around the gate by the time Lucien sighed, put down the potion he'd been working on, and turned his chair around to face me.

"What, exactly, are you hoping to accomplish with this?" he asked.

"Target practice." I took another shot at a Dark Guardian, and hit the gate again. "My archery could probably use a bit of work…"

Lucien raised an eyebrow at me. "It certainly could… Though it would, perhaps, be wiser to practice somewhere where you aren't capable of shooting me by mistake."

"I'm not that bad. Just a bit… inconsistent."

"Inconsistent or otherwise, I would appreciate it if you refrained from damaging my Dark Guardians for your own amusement. They have orders to protect you as they would me; you have nothing to fear from them now. And they are neither cheap nor simple to replace."

"Sorry. I'm just not sure what to do with myself here…"

"Your choice of targets aside, I suppose this is as productive a way as any to spend your time…" Lucien went quiet for a moment, then stood up, walked across the chamber, removed a torch from its sconce on the wall, and mounted a battered barrel lid in its place. "There. You'll be aiming at a target as far away from me as possible, and you aren't likely to damage anything of significant value unless you deliberately attempt to do so."

"Um, thank you…" I could've done without his doubts about my aim, but the new target he'd set up for me looked nice. If it had a few rings painted around it, I never even would've guessed it started its life as a barrel lid. "This is a lot better than the gate."

"If nothing else, it should create less noise." Lucien gave me a wry smile. "Assuming neither of us is assigned a contract by then, we can look into a more… permanent way for you to occupy yourself within the next few days. I didn't intend for this to be a prison, after all; this arrangement is meant to offer you protection, not serve as a punishment."

"That… sounds good. I'd like that. If I don't have any contracts to keep me busy, that is."

"Excellent. Now, I have a set of poisons to get back to, assuming you'll let me finish them in relative peace, now." He didn't wait for me to answer – just walked back to his desk and went back to fussing with his alchemy supplies.

I picked up my arrows that hadn't ended up outside the gate, and kept myself busy with my makeshift archery target until I felt tired enough to go to sleep for the night. After rounding up my loose arrows a second time, I stripped off my armor in favor of a loose-fitting shirt and made myself comfortable on the bed. I was a bit surprised when I found myself curled up under the blanket, instead of on top of it. I hadn't expected the fort to get so cold at night. Even with the blanket, I could still feel the cold air, and I'd halfway decided to get up and go looking for either something warmer to wear or another blanket when I felt the bed shift behind me and a warm arm wrap around me and pull me closer to an equally warm body. I knew Lucien had probably just done it to keep both of us from falling off the bed – it really wasn't sized for more than one person to sleep there comfortably – but it still felt nice. With a snap of his fingers, the torches on the walls put themselves out, and I fell asleep a few moments later.

The next morning, I woke up alone, to the sight of the torches shining as bright as they ever did. The empty space next to me was cold; wherever Lucien had gone, he'd been there for a while. I got out of bed and had a look around the chamber, to see if he'd left me a note saying why he'd left, or when he'd come back. And maybe find some breakfast, while I was at it. Hopefully both.

I didn't make it more than a few steps away from the bed before I heard the trapdoor click shut above me. The rope ladder attached to it swayed just a little under Lucien's weight as he climbed down, and if I squinted a little, I could just make out the shimmery outline of a transparent, robed man. He didn't give me so much as a greeting on his way down; either he hadn't noticed me noticing him, or he just couldn't be bothered. So, instead of saying anything to him, or waiting for him to un-invisible himself, I figured I'd have myself a bit of fun with him.

I turned my back to him and raised my arms over my head in a long, slow stretch that hitched my shirt up just high enough for it to stop covering my backside. Before I could so much as look over my shoulder to try and see if I'd had any effect on him, I felt a pair of hands grab me, twist me around, and shove me up against a pillar, hard enough to rattle my skull.

I cried out in pain, and managed to grumble, "Be more gentle next time, you ass. That hurt," through gritted teeth while I waited for my ears to stop ringing. I hadn't done a damn thing to deserve that, and if Lucien thought I'd let him get away with it, he had another think coming.

He didn't say anything, but he cupped my face in his hands for a moment, in what I thought was an apology until those same hands clamped down around my throat a heartbeat later. My anger turned to fear as I started to realize that it wasn't Lucien who'd shoved me against the pillar. His scent was all wrong, from the moldy, decayed smell of his robes to his rancid breath. Instead of warm, and softer than they had any right to be, his hands were cold and bony, with nails that hadn't been cut in a good, long while. I could feel them digging into my skin as he tightened his grip around my throat.

I struggled against him, trying to wrench myself out of his grip, and my hands found smooth skin instead of close-trimmed stubble when I tried clawing at his face. Each breath I took was harder, and brought in less air than the last, and I could feel myself growing weaker with each passing moment. Finally, I forced one of my legs between his, and rammed my knee up as hard as I could. He let out a squeak that, even under the circumstances, was too high-pitched to have come from Lucien, and loosened his grip on my throat – not all the way, but enough for me to pry his hands off me and take off running across the chamber, gasping for breath all the way.

I grabbed my dagger off the crate I'd left it on as I passed it, wishing I'd kept in on me in the first place instead of putting it aside because I had Lucien there to keep me safe. Behind me, my attacker's invisibility spell had worn off, but he was moving too fast, and his hood covered too much of his face, for me to notice anything I could identify him by in the quick glance over my shoulder I let myself take. He just looked like a mass of black robes with a very long, sharp dagger in his hand. At that point, though, I didn't care much about what he looked like. I didn't have a doubt in my mind that he was the traitor, and until I'd gotten myself out of his reach, that was all I needed to know about him. Standing and fighting against someone who'd killed a Speaker would've just gotten me killed, and I knew it; I needed to find myself a way out.

I stopped for a moment, torn between pulling the lever that would open the gate between me and the rest of Fort Farragut and climbing up the rope ladder and through the trapdoor into the forest outside Cheydinhal. Leaving through the trapdoor would've been faster, and given me a lot more space to work with, but I didn't know if I could climb it fast enough to reach the top before the traitor caught up to me. And if he was any good at throwing that dagger of his, I'd just make a sitting duck of myself while I worked on getting the trapdoor open. If I ran off into the rest of the fort, I doubted I'd manage to reach the front door without getting myself caught in a trap, if I didn't keep myself slow and careful, or the traitor catching up with me, if I did. I'd at least have the Dark Guardians on my side that way, though, and I wouldn't need to make it outside if I could find myself a good place to hide.

In the end, the traitor took that choice from me when he got close enough to lunge at me with his dagger, and I had to dive away from the ladder and toward the lever controlling the gate to keep from getting myself stabbed. I scooted myself along the floor toward the lever, wincing as its cold stones scraped at my bare legs, and pulled it as I got to my feet, while the traitor stopped to find his footing again. The gate started to drag itself upward, and I made myself keep looking forward as I ran toward it. I couldn't have waited for it to raise itself all the way if I'd wanted to, so I dropped to the floor and lay flat on my back as I dragged myself underneath it, tearing my shirt where it caught on the sharp spikes on its bottom. On the other side, I pulled the gate's other control lever, hoping it would bring the gate down again, or at least get it stuck, and buy me some extra time.

I ran as far into the dark, twisty halls outside the gate as I dared before finding a promising pile of crates and barrels and wedging myself into the space between a couple of the larger ones and the wall. I clutched my dagger tight against my chest as I listened to the traitor's footsteps and muffled curses echoing through the halls, and the scraping noises of the Dark Guardians, wherever they'd wandered off to. My shirt didn't do much to protect me from the damp, cold mist swirling around me in its shredded state, and my skin burned in a few places where I'd scratched more than just my shirt on the gate's underside, but a bit of cold and discomfort were nothing compared to whatever the traitor had planned for me. I wasn't leaving my hiding place until I could be sure I'd survive doing it.

\----------

After a brief trip to Cheydinhal to replenish my depleted food stores, I returned to Fort Farragut. Taking care to avoid creating any unnecessary noise when opening and closing the trapdoor, I began my descent into my chambers, fully expecting to find Remy still asleep on my bed, snoring softly through the slight gap between his front teeth. I almost envied his peaceful complacency in the face of betrayal and imminent danger; I'd found sleep to be an elusive fantasy since I'd learned of his sabotaged dead drop orders. Perhaps, if he had yet to wake, I'd join him, and make another attempt at sharing his abnormally sound rest, for someone in his line of work.

I found a strange sense of comfort in the thought, and further comfort still in the thought of finding him there with a child in his arms, one day. Perhaps the loss of the overwhelming majority of my sanctuary – my life's work – had made me sentimental. I had long ago accepted that, due to my obligations as a Speaker of the Black Hand, paired with the temporary, often falsified nature of my romantic involvements, the assassins under my command were the only logical means by which my legacy might be passed on to future generations, and the only family I truly required. However, with the possibility of having a child, without the need to divide my attention between the Dark Brotherhood and maintaining the façade of a second family outside it, having fallen into my lap, I couldn't deny that I found the thought appealing. Remy was among the better lovers I'd had – bizarre, erratic behavior and all – and, child or no child, I'd tied myself to him for the foreseeable future when I'd made him my Silencer. The surprising amount of forethought he'd shown in determining what assistance he might require of me left me with no doubt that he'd find as much success in child-rearing as any young parent did, and, with both its parents in the Dark Brotherhood, our child would, with any luck, have a promising career as an assassin ahead of it. All things considered, I'd found myself in quite a favorable position.

I set the satchel containing my purchases on the floor when my feet touched ground once more, and found my living quarters in a decidedly different state than I'd expected. Unless he'd taught himself an invisibility spell in his sleep, Remy was not in bed, or anywhere in the chamber, and the gate leading into the rest of the fort had been partially opened. Upon closer inspection, I found his armor untouched, but his dagger missing, and a strip of cloth from his shirt attached to the gate's base. Something, or someone, had caused my Silencer to flee the chamber in an unprepared rush, and, in light of recent events, I had little difficulty making an educated guess as to that someone's identity.

I cast a Chameleon spell over myself as I opened the gate the rest of the way and ventured out into the maze of hallways that should have provided ample protection for my Silencer in my absence, to ensure that, if I encountered the traitor, I would see them before they had a chance to see me. I found myself more concerned, however, about Remy, and hoped that I would find a living, breathing Dunmer instead of another mutilated corpse. I'd lost more than enough family members to the traitor already.

I paused when I heard ragged breathing from behind a pile of half-rotten wooden containers, and looked behind them to find a shivering, wide-eyed Remy clutching a dagger to his bloodied chest. A pattern of bruises consistent with strangulation marred his throat. I allowed my Chameleon spell to dissipate and reached out to him, with the intent of helping him to his feet, but he only staggered to his feet and squeezed himself further into his hiding space in response. In what was, perhaps, a lapse in judgment, I pursued him, and found myself knocked to the floor, with hands tearing at my hood. His breathing grew more even when he'd succeeded in removing it, his face softening into something less akin to that of a frightened animal. "And here I'd thought you'd decided against future attempts at tackling me…" I said.

"I did. I thought you were the traitor." Remy shifted himself from my torso to my legs, allowing me to pull myself into a sitting position, at least, and immediately wrapped his arms around me as though his life depended on it, burying his face in my robes.

"What happened?" I asked, stroking his hair. Under normal circumstances, I'd never have coddled an assassin under my command to such an extent, lover or not, but given his shaken, compromised state, and my role in causing it through my decision to leave him on his own, I felt I was justified in making an exception.

"I woke up and you weren't there, so I went to see if you left a note saying when you'd be back, and someone came through the trapdoor. I thought it was you, but then he… he tried to strangle me, and everything about him was just wrong, and I ran out here and hid until you found me." Remy pressed himself more firmly against me, digging his fingers into my back to the point of pain.

"Did you notice anything you could use to identify him?"

"No. I'm pretty sure he's a man, but that's it. He had robes on that covered pretty much all of him, and I never got much of a look at his face. I'm sorry…"

I sighed, dragging him to his feet along with me as I stood. "It's all right. You managed to keep your life, which is an impressive feat in itself." I led him back to my living quarters, and shut the gate behind us. If the traitor hadn't capitalized on my distraction while attempting to coax Remy from his hiding place, he was long gone, and I had nothing to gain from attempting to pursue him. "Fort Farragut is no longer safe. The traitor is either a member of the Black Hand, or has otherwise gained access to its secrets, if he managed to find you here. We will require another place to stay, until he has been dealt with."

"We could use my house in the Imperial City. You've been there, once, after my first real contract. It's not as big as this, but it's cozy enough, and there's no place for anyone to hide. The door creaks too much for anyone to break in without us noticing, too."

"It will have to do. We're leaving as soon as you've gathered your things and fully dressed yourself."


	24. Family Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest changes I made to this chapter were heavily reworking its first scene and adding an entirely new "quest" to this story's plot. I struggled a bit with whether or not I wanted to make such a significant change to its narrative, but I think that this story's final chapters will make more sense this way, as far as character motivations are concerned, and gives a bit of insight into a period of time that was just glossed over in the original version.

"Please tell me this is some kind of joke," Lucien said as I shut the door to my Waterfront shack behind us. He looked at my splintery, mismatched furniture and faded, stained rugs like he thought they might bite him.

"Nope. This is it; home sweet home," I replied, tossing my pack onto the floor next to my bed. I'd work on finding a real place to store it later. "Why are you so surprised? You've been here before. After my first real contract on Whatshisname, remember? The pirate."

"I do remember it. Vividly. I simply assumed that you had broken into someone else's… house out of convenience, and lived elsewhere. I see now that I was mistaken." He took another look around the room, and tapped a floorboard with his foot. It creaked. "I suppose we'll have plenty of warning if the traitor makes a target of us here, at least. I doubt even I could silently traverse this place."

"If that was supposed to be a compliment, you need to work on being positive." I flopped down onto my bed, letting myself sink into my familiar, lumpy mattress. I probably should've been more upset with him than I was, but I'd felt a bit giddy ever since my surviving the traitor, at least for now, had finally sunk in. I figured I was just happy to be alive. "We can't all live in giant, abandoned forts, you know."

Lucien sat down beside me. "My apologies, Silencer. I do sincerely believe that we will be as safe here as is possible, given the circumstances." He rested a hand on my belly. I wondered if he'd done it to show that he was talking about more than just the two of us, or because it was the easiest part of me for him to reach. It wasn't like there was anything interesting to feel there, yet. Or at least, not as far as I could tell. Either way, it gave me a nice, warm feeling I didn't want to ruin by asking what he'd meant by it.

I put one of my hands on top of his. His hand tensed up a little, at first, but he didn't pull it away, and he made a soft, happy noise in the back of his throat when it relaxed again a moment later. As I lay there, watching the thin slivers of sunlight shining through the cracks in my roof, I couldn't shake another question out of my mind. A question that had been eating away at me since the Purification, really.

"Why me?" I asked.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?" I could practically hear Lucien raising an eyebrow at me.

"I mean, when you had to choose just one person from the sanctuary as your Silencer, to save them… Why did you choose me?"

"Are you questioning my decision?"

"Um… kind of? Maybe? I mean, I've seen the rest of the Black Hand. They were all like you, and I'm… well, I'm like me." I felt small, like a stupid pink river betty in a sea of black and red slaughterfish. A stupid pink river betty who'd had the traitor in his reach, and just swum away instead of grabbing him. "And the traitor… He was like you, too."

"I didn't choose you because I thought you were most like me, or the rest of the Black Hand; I chose you because you were the most logical and least suspicious match for the position. And even then, you aren't so different from J'Ghasta…" He sighed. "Always arriving at Black Hand meetings without a shirt, in a state of dubious sobriety. In our line of work, a certain level of eccentricity is forgivable, so long as it doesn't interfere with one's work."

"But it did interfere with my work; I let the traitor escape."

Lucien was quiet for a moment, while he pulled his hand out from under mine and ran it up my side until it reached my neck. I winced when he brushed over one of the bruises there. "On the contrary, I'd say that he allowed you to escape. There is no shame in running from a confrontation you have no hope of surviving; had you stood and fought, the traitor would have escaped all the same, and you would be dead." A faint, gold light filled the room as the cold, tingly feeling of a healing spell washed over me. "I much prefer this outcome."

I let out a contented sigh and leaned into his hand as the dull ache in my neck faded, and his touch became pleasurable instead of painful. I'd always been a bit sensitive there, and the healing spell seemed to have heightened that. Not that I was complaining, of course. When the last of the spell's light faded, I turned my head to press my face against his arm, and kissed the underside of his wrist. "I think I like this outcome better, too."

Lucien chuckled. "There's the Silencer I'm familiar with. A touch is never just a touch with you, is it?" He moved his hand to my face, and ran his thumb along the outer edge of my ear.

"Not when it's coming from you, it isn't." I half-laughed, half-moaned as he kept rubbing my ear. "Don't try and tell me you're doing this by accident."

"Would you prefer it if I stopped, then?" He shifted so that he had an arm on either side of me, and leaned in until his face hovered just above mine.

"Gods, no," I breathed. My whole face felt warm, and I could tell by the knowing way he smirked at me that it had gone violet. I reached up and pulled him in for a kiss before he had a chance to say anything about it. One of these days, I was going to have him at my mercy and see how he liked it, but this was not that day. I figured I'd have plenty of other chances, later on; I could wait. Right then, just forgetting about everything else that had gone wrong in the world and letting myself feel good for the rest of the night was more than good enough for me.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of a quill scratching on paper, and opened my eyes to find Lucien sitting in front of my fireplace, using a plate as a makeshift table as he scribbled something on a scrap of parchment. Judging by the faint, gray light showing through the cracks under my door, the sun hadn't risen yet.

"What are you writing?" I asked, sitting up as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

"Informing our Listener of your encounter with the traitor, as well as our change in location. In such tense, uncertain times, any undocumented absence from one's expected location is inadvisable." He signed the paper with a flourish and set it on the floor to let the ink dry.

"What if the letter gets lost on the way?" I asked. Ungolim had seemed understanding enough, from what I'd seen of him, but even I wouldn't have taken a lost letter as an excuse for someone disappearing. Not with the mess the traitor had left everything in, with Lucien and I right at the center of it.

"That would be a valid concern, had our Dread Father not provided us with the means to forego traditional channels of communication." Lucien picked up the paper, rolled it up, and tied it together with a piece of black twine. "Couriers can be waylaid, and messenger birds shot down, making both unsuitable for the time-sensitive nature of our work. As such, we rely on a much better method." And with that, he muttered something under his breath and placed the paper into the fireplace, where it vanished a moment later.

"So, you send letters by burning them?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. The letter should reappear out of our Listener's fireplace, or whatever source of flame he happens to be closest to, in another moment or two, as the result of a powerful, if limited, magickal incantation that allows near-instantaneous communication between members of the Black Hand. This is usually how Speakers receive lists of contracts to arrange and distribute."

"Oh." I looked into my fireplace, squinting as I tried and failed to find the ashes the letter should've left behind. "I guess that explains why the guards have never caught a Dark Brotherhood courier."

Lucien smirked. "Indeed, it does. The emperor's dogs expending such effort on a fool's errand of their own making never ceases to amuse us."

"If the traitor's part of the Black Hand, though, could he get to the letter first?"

"Unless the Listener himself is the traitor, in which case the Dark Brotherhood is already doomed, no. Once a document has been consigned to the flames, it can only be retrieved by its intended recipient."

"All right." I yawned, struggling to keep my eyes open while they tried to glue themselves shut with every blink. "That's probably safe enough." After everything else the traitor shouldn't have been able to do that he'd somehow managed anyway, I couldn't fully trust that he wouldn't throw another wrench in things, but Lucien sounded sure enough of himself for me to wrap myself back up in my blanket and go back to sleep for another hour or two. Lucien was free to get up before the sun if he wanted to, but I wouldn't be joining him in that habit if I could help it.

We didn't hear anything from Ungolim, except for him letting Lucien know he'd gotten his message and that the traitor had tracked down and killed Shaleez, Ungolim's Silencer, and Alval Uvani, for the next couple of months. The traitor seemed like he'd given up on Lucien and I for the time being, at least, and Lucien had paid off a few beggars to let us know if anyone strange started skulking about the Waterfront, just in case. Beyond that, life actually seemed normal, if a little boring.

Most days, Lucien would explain some part of being a Speaker to me, so I wouldn't be lost when I needed to help him with things when we had a proper sanctuary again. I ended up enjoying that more than I'd expected to, and I was either a quicker study at it than I'd been at alchemy, or Lucien had a lot more patience with me when he didn't risk things exploding every time I didn't understand something. I liked having Lucien around in general more than I'd expected to, really. He was less stodgy than I'd always thought he was, when he wasn't going on about Sithis, the Night Mother, or the Black Hand, and he was nice enough to make food for us both most nights, instead of leaving me to fail at cooking something for myself or spend part of my savings buying something from an inn.

Other days, he'd spend his time working on some potion or poison, and I'd go outside and enjoy the crisp, winter air on my roof to get away from the smell and have some time to myself. I'd started feeling sick to my stomach more and more often as the days went by, until I'd realized it wasn't the alchemy fumes that were the problem when it started happening on an almost daily basis. Still, either the fresh air or just lying still for a while seemed to help things, so I kept climbing onto my roof, to enjoy it while I still could. If the traitor hadn't still been out there somewhere, hovering over my life like a stormcloud, I could've almost been happy with the way things had turned out.

When a roll of paper with a fancier tie than usual bounced out of the fireplace one evening, I didn't watch Lucien as he picked it up and unrolled it, so I wouldn't have to see him toss it back into the fire a moment later and I could pretend to be surprised when he told me someone else had been killed. I couldn't stop myself from looking at him when I heard him set the paper down on the table and start rummaging through his things, though.

"So, what happened this time?" I asked, still not sure I wanted to know the answer.

"I need to meet with a client about a potential contract," he replied, strapping a shortsword to his belt and placing a bottle of what was either poison or a healing potion in his pocket. "And you're coming with me. Put your shrouded armor on and gather whatever else you might need; it's past time I provided you with hands-on experience with the duties you will one day need to carry out in my stead."

"You're sure the armor will still fit?" It had always clung to me like a second skin, and with the way my belly had started to swell, I didn't think it had enough extra room for me to get the front of it buckled together without looking like an overstuffed sausage, if I could even get it buckled in the first place.

"It will fit. It's enchanted to change its shape as necessary to accommodate the proportions of its owner. The enchantment does have its limits, of course, but you should be fine for the time being."

"I'll give it a try, then." I dug out my armor from the chest at the foot of my bed I'd stashed it in and set about putting it on. The feel of its leather against my skin felt familiar and almost comforting, after spending so much time in regular clothing, and I got all its straps and buckles fastened as easily as I had when I'd practically lived in it during the Oblivion Crisis, as people were calling it. I was a bit surprised when I managed to pull it over my belly without any trouble, like it had always fit that way, but I wasn't sure I liked the way it clung to me in a way that somehow made me look bigger around than I was. There'd be no hope of convincing whoever we were supposed to meet with that I was just a bit on the plump side; hopefully they wouldn't mind me looking less assassin-like than usual. "Is this going to be a problem?" I asked, pointing at the ridiculous, bulging lump my armor had molded itself into as I double-checked that I had my dagger in its sheath.

"I highly doubt it. Our clientele aren't generally the sort to concern themselves with the physical condition of the assassins they hire, so long as their contract is ultimately fulfilled. Still…" He took another look at me, and raised an eyebrow. "We should probably ensure that you remain in the shadows as much as possible, to prevent this from being taken as a sign of weakness."

"That makes sense." Getting to stay out of sight suited my needs just fine. I hadn't much liked the thought of getting treated like a woman by whoever we were supposed to meet with, and I didn't have a snowflake's chance in Oblivion of convincing a stranger I was a man, looking the way I did. "I don't suppose you have an extra set of robes on you?"

"Not one that would fit you; Black Hand robes are traditionally custom-fitted for a Speaker when they first accept the full responsibilities of their new role. It is meant to symbolize that, from that moment forward, the assassin in question is no longer expendable in the eyes of our Dread Father."

"And I can't go wearing anything else?"

"I'm afraid not. This is one of the few circumstances under which your uniform is mandatory."

I sighed. "All right. Over-stuffed sausage uniform it is, then. If we get laughed at, it's not my fault."

Lucien's mouth twitched, and he cleared his throat in a way that sounded like he was just trying to cover a laugh. "Fair enough. If you truly don't wish to accompany me, you are welcome to remain here instead."

"I'm still going with you; I'm just going to look like I mess while I do it." I opened my door, and took a step out into the fading light. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"To a partially-collapsed house in the Temple District. It would seem that the Arena's Gray Prince requires our services," Lucien replied. "Normally, the Imperial City doesn't fall under Cheydinhal's jurisdiction, but, as the Cheydinhal sanctuary is effectively the Imperial City sanctuary, for the time being, I am the Speaker closest to our client."

"Wait." I stopped, my hand still on the door. "I don't think I can go with you. I've done some fighting in the Arena, while he was training in the Bloodworks. He might recognize my face."

"I see. Have you ever spoken to him?"

"No."

"Good. Attached to the inside of your hood, you should find a strip of cloth designed to cover the lower half of your face. Put that on, and he shouldn't be able to recognize you, so long as you keep your hair tucked away."

I reached inside my hood, and found the extra bit of cloth he'd mentioned. I'd noticed it the first time I put the armor on, but I'd always assumed it was just a badly-applied patch, or someone had made a mistake while stitching it together. "Well, that's handy," I said, once I'd gotten it into place. "Do you think it'll work?"

Lucien reached out and tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, then nodded. "It will do. Now, if you have no further concerns, it's past time for us to be on our way."

The Temple District felt more like it belonged in an abandoned ruin than a live city after dark. Most of its houses still weren't anywhere near rebuilt after the ransacking Dagon and his minions had given them, and with all the paid workers and volunteers trying to fix things at home for the night, the streets were empty, without so much as a beggar huddling against a wall to keep out of the wind. The only company Lucien and I had on our walk through the rubble was the giant stone dragon in the Temple of the One, silently screeching at the night sky and the small, sparse snowflakes drifting through the air. I pulled my hood tighter against my face as we passed it, though whether it was to keep out the cold or hide from what was left of Martin, I couldn't have said.

Eventually, Lucien came to a stop outside a house that had fared a little better than most of the ones around it. It still had all four walls, though one was missing its upper half, and most of the roof was still in place, if a bit singed. Lucien gave a single, sharp knock on the door before opening it and leading me inside, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his shortsword. Inside, everything was dark, lit only by the faint moonlight shining in through the holes in the roof. I could just make out the outline of several pieces of furniture, arranged like people still lived there, and the tall, broad shape of Agronak gro-Malog, wrapped in a fur cloak that make his shoulders look even wider, leaning against the far wall.

"Thank the Nine you're here; I have… a problem, and I didn't know who else to turn to," he said, running a hand over his mostly-bald head. "You… You're going to help me, right?"

"Of course," Lucien replied, stepping into a pool of moonlight. I stayed huddled against the door, where most of the light couldn't touch me. "Let's hear what this problem of yours is, shall we?"

"Yes. That… that sounds like a good place to start. I call myself the Gray Prince, which you probably already know, because I am a Lord's son, though Imperial law has denied me my birthright for all my life. Recently, I did some digging on my father's history, to see if I could find him, or his family, and set things right, but what I found…" He took a deep, shaky breath. "It's so awful, I can't even speak it aloud. I… I need to know if it's true, and if it is, I can't afford to let anyone know. It would ruin me!"

"You have nothing to fear from us; the Dark Brotherhood is nothing if not discreet."

Agronak snorted. "Oh, I know that. That's the only reason I resorted to you scoundrels in the first place, instead of finding someone with honor. Don't think that means I agree with what you do."

"But you are willing to pay us for our services, and all that they entail, yes? You must request someone's death, or I'm afraid our conversation is at an end. We are in the business of death-dealing, not fact-checking, and a contract cannot be established if no blood is to be spilled."

"Don't remind me." Agronak groaned. "By Shinji, I can't believe I've sunk to this, but I need you to kill my father."

"There, now. Was that really so difficult?" Lucien's voice echoed off the stone walls like a rumbling fire – warm and inviting, even while he arranged another man's death. Agronak never stood a chance.

"No. Now that I've said it, it feels good. But I don't just want him dead, you see. I want you to drag him out of his crumbling castle and bring him to me, so he has to tell me, to my face, how he's a monster that ruined me and my mother with his lies and his curse, and die knowing what he's done, and that I can never forgive him for it. Then, maybe, I can have some peace. And if it turns out the curse is a lie, then he can die for abandoning his only son, and the only woman he ever loved, and letting them believe such an awful thing about him."

"If you're so eager to speak with him, would it not be easier to simply pay him a visit? Cut out the middle man, so to speak?"

Agronak shook his head. "No. If anyone found out I went out there, or what I went there for… Like I said before, my reputation would never recover. No one else can know of my curse, if the rumors are true."

"And what is this curse of yours? I understand your reluctance, but I cannot accept your contract without knowing what risks it might entail."

"My father… is a vampire, or people believe he is. A blood-sucking monster who has no right to call himself nobility! I need… I need to know if it's true. I'll never be able to live with myself, otherwise."

"Kidnapping a vampire is no small feat. You are willing to provide compensation equal to the risk involved, I presume?"

"Of course. Go to Crowhaven, on the coast northwest of Anvil, drag Lord Lovidicus back here, and make him pay for his sins with his foul liar's blood, and you can name your price."

"Excellent. We have a contract, dear Prince. Consider it done."


	25. Blood-Stained Origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing in this chapter was in the original version of this fanfic, so there aren't any notable revisions here because all of it is new material. Rather, the existence of this chapter in itself is a revision of this fanfic's later chapters as a whole. I hope that I have expanded on the characterization of Lord Lovidicus and Agronak believably here, as the few lines of dialogue they have in-game didn't give me much to go on and aren't particularly applicable to the circumstances they find themselves in in this chapter. I have taken a few liberties with the layout of Lord Lovidicus' room and Crowhaven itself here, as well, in order to make it seem more like someone's home than an ancient ruin and keep things flowing as smoothly as possible.

The warm, cozy air inside my shack felt like a lover's embrace after walking home through the wind and snow. "So, which of us is going on the contract?" I asked, sitting down to warm my hands in front of my fireplace.

Lucien was quiet for a moment, brushing the last un-melted snowflakes off his robes. "Under normal circumstances, I would consider this contract to be an excellent means by which to test your skills. However, in your condition, performing such a task alone would be inadvisable and carry with it an unreasonably high probability of death or severe injury. I would simply attend to the matter myself, but given the potential time-consuming nature of infiltrating a fort and transporting a captive vampire, I'd prefer not to risk the traitor catching you alone again. As such, I feel it would be best if you accompanied me, if you have no objections."

"Why would I? It'll be nice to get out of the city again; I'm getting stir-crazy, spending so much time here at once."

"You do realize that we are leaving the city in order to kidnap and murder a possible vampire, not for a relaxing stroll through the winter countryside?"

"Yes. It still beats sitting around here all day." I shrugged. I didn't expect kidnapping Lord Lovidicus to be fun, but at that point, I'd have rather eaten a bowl of broken glass than kept on sitting at home, waiting to see who the traitor went after next. It'd be nice to have a chance to fight an enemy I could see, again. "Besides, I'll have you with me the whole time; I can't get much safer than that."

"You… place a surprising amount of faith in my protection."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Lucien sighed. "Not inherently, so long as you don't come to rely on my abilities more heavily than your own. I expect that you know better than to use it as an excuse for carelessness."

"I promise I'm not trying to take advantage of you. Unless it's in the fun way." I leaned back in my chair and patted my belly. "It's probably a bit late to warn me about being careless while we're doing that, though."

Lucien gave me a wry smile. "You weren't the only careless party involved in that. And I can think of precious few better sources of motivation to abstain from careless behavior in other aspects of your life..."

"See? You've got nothing to worry about. When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning, as soon as the shops open and we can obtain the supplies we'll require. I suggest that you take this opportunity to rest; it may be quite some time before you have another."

As much as I wanted to, I hardly got a wink of sleep that night. No matter which way I turned, I couldn't get comfortable, and even the blanket I'd taken from Motierre's house felt rough and scratchy against my skin. I eventually settled for just trying to watch the light change through the gap under my door, and not thinking about what the next day would bring. I must have nodded off once or twice, because I opened my eyes after what I thought was just a blink to a much brighter sliver of light than when I'd shut them, but I didn't feel any more or less rested than the night before when the light had grown bright enough to look like morning.

We didn't need to buy much before leaving the city – just some food for the road, a bit of rope, and a dark, thick blanket we could use to cover Lovidicus if he really was a vampire and we needed to travel with him in daylight. Beyond that, we needed to rent a second horse we could use to bring Lovidicus back to the Imperial City. Lucien sent me to get everything else we needed while he saw to the horse, and I arrived at the city stables a little under an hour later to find him handing a bag of septims to the stablehand, a dark look on his face, while holding the reins of a withered horse hanging her head in a tired slump. Shadowmere stood tethered to a tree just outside the paddock, flicking her tail in impatience. Seeing the two of them so close together made the stable's poor old nag look even sadder.

"Are you sure she's up to this?" I asked, once the stablehand had left to tend to the other horses in the paddock. The horse's ears perked up a little as she plodded away from the paddock after us, but the rest of her stayed in the same tired slump.

"She'll have to be," Lucien replied. "Apparently the rest of their available horses were lost to… mysterious circumstances. I doubt that she's capable of moving swiftly, but that should work to our advantage if our target attempts to use her to escape."

Shadowmere narrowed her eyes and snorted when Lucien untethered her from the tree, and she realized we meant to bring the other horse with us, but she didn't protest any further. She relaxed her posture when she saw Lucien put our supplies in the other horse's saddlebags instead of hers, and with one last flick of her tail, she stopped acknowledging that the other horse even existed.

We spent the rest of the day, and the better part of the next, riding to Crowhaven, Lucien on Shadowmere and me on the horse we'd rented. I'd started thinking of her as "Patchy," because of the way her dull, brown hair thinned to almost-bald patches in places, but calling her that out loud would've just felt mean. We probably could've made it to Crowhaven in less than half that time if we'd just taken Shadowmere, but nothing either of us tried could convince Patchy to move at anything faster than a meandering half-trot, and without her we'd have needed to walk back with Lovidicus, which probably would've lost us more time than waiting on Patchy, in the end. Her slow pace meant I didn't have to worry about Shadowmere's breakneck speed, and the jostling it would've given me, making me sick, either, which I couldn't have been more grateful for.

When we reached the area where Agronak told us to look for Crowhaven, the closest thing to a fortress, or even a house, we could find was a crumbling, burned-out ruin. Ivy covered most of its walls, and a few saplings had sprung up inside it, as though no one had visited the place in decades. About the only thing left intact was a set of sturdy, wooden cellar doors that raised just high enough off the ground to peek through the tall grass that covered the floor around them.

"Are you sure we're looking in the right spot?" I asked, sliding off of Patchy's back and taking a coil of rope out of her saddlebag. I decided to leave the blanket behind, for the time being; no sense in carrying something so unwieldy around if I wasn't sure I'd need it.

"No, but this bears investigating, nonetheless." Lucien dismounted Shadowmere in a single, fluid motion that probably made me look like a stumbling child in comparison. "If Lord Lovidicus no longer calls this ruin home, he may still have left some hint of his present whereabouts behind. And if he is a vampire, a ruin such as this would make as effective and inconspicuous a lair as any, if its cellar remains intact."

"So, it'll be a bit like Fort Farragut inside?"

"Presumably, though hopefully with fewer precautions taken to defend it from scavengers."

We brought Shadowmere and Patchy inside what was left of the fort's walls, to keep them – well, mostly Patchy – safe from wolves, and set about prying open the cellar doors. Someone had put a good-sized lock on them, but after years of sitting out in the weather, it had almost rusted away. Instead of trying a lockpick on it, Lucien grabbed one of its handles and gave it a good, sharp tug that shattered what was left of the deadbolt holding it shut.

The door made an almost painful creaking sound as it swung open to reveal a set of stone stairs that descended into pitch darkness. A rotten, dusty smell wafted out of the cellar they led to. Lucien started down them first, and I waited until he'd disappeared into the darkness before following him, the coil of rope slung over my shoulder, so I didn't bump into him by accident. I turned my back to one of the staircase's walls and kept both my hands on it, to help keep track of where I was and give me a way to steady myself if I stumbled on any loose stones or skipped a step as I shuffled sideways down the stairs.

At the bottom of the steps, the same sort of eerie, glowing mist that lit up Fort Farragut's outer halls swirled over the cellar's stone floor. Rows of torch sconces, most of them empty or holding long-burnt-out scraps of wood, lined the walls, with a few mostly-intact tapestries spread out between them. A few tables, surrounded by crumbling chairs, and a half-rotted bookshelf were scattered over the floor, making the room look smaller than it was. If someone took the time to replace a few torches, it might have almost looked like a home. On the far side of the room, a narrow hallway stretched out for a few feet, then made a sharp turn to the left. I thought that Lucien had moved on through the hallway without me until what I'd thought was just the shadow of one of the stone pillars holding the roof up reached out a hand and gestured for me to come closer to it.

I could hear my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest from the fright he'd given me as I skittered across the room toward him, hoping that the sound was all in my head.

"We may well have to look elsewhere for our quarry, if he still lives," Lucien murmured. "Search this room for any information that might aid us in our search while I determine what, if anything, lies beyond this chamber."

I nodded, and set about looking over what was left of the furniture while Lucien disappeared around the hallway's bend. Some of the tables had a few damp scraps of paper on them, but any writing on them had faded long ago. The bookshelf wasn't of much use, either; most of the books were still intact, if a little crumbly, but none of them were anything out of the ordinary.

A few moments after I'd finished thumbing through the last of the books, Lucien returned from the hallway, as empty-handed as I was.

I shut the book and put it back on the shelf. "There's nothing useful in here. Did you find anything?"

His lips – the only part of his face I could see under the shadow his hood cast – curled into a smirk that sent a shiver down my spine. "We are not alone here, after all. Come with me."

I followed him down the hallway, stepping over a few dead skeevers along the way, until we came to a stop in front of a wooden door with a pattern of leaves carved into it, held shut by an iron crossbar. At first, I couldn't see how he'd convinced himself that someone else was on the other side of it, but when I looked down, I could just make out the glow of a candle or torch shining out from under it.

"What do we do, now?" I asked, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

"We take this opportunity to strike at Lovidicus, before night falls and he can make use of his full strength. Be on your guard; no human could have survived so long without a supply of food and water, and what few rats he may have caught over the years will have done little to quench his thirst for blood."

Lucien lifted the crossbar, then turned the door's handle. It swung open without a sound, and he shut it with a faint click once we'd both stepped into the room beyond it. A pair of torches lit up a short, wide flight of stairs that descended into what had probably been a bedroom fit for a king, before it had gotten sealed off. A large, four-poster bed sat on a dais in the center of the room, with a sturdy desk carved to match the door on one side of it and a bookshelf flanked by two overstuffed armchairs on the other. Dust covered everything in the room, including the shriveled corpse dressed in worn-out nobleman's clothing, a set of fangs poking out from under its dried-up lips, sitting in one of the armchairs. It looked like we'd arrived too late to capture Lord Lovidicus alive, after all.

Then, the corpse in the chair stirred, sniffing the air as he turned his head toward us. "Luktuv? Have you finally come back to me, my love?" he called out in a thin, reedy voice.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my startled yelping, and took a step backward, into the door. Lucien tensed up beside me, sliding the coil of rope off my shoulder with one hand as he drew his shortsword with the other.

Lovidicus' eyes snapped open, glowing red in the dim torchlight. "You're not Luktuv. Still…" He got to his feet, bones creaking the whole time, and bared his fangs in a snarl. "I suppose there's no harm in slaking my thirst on the lackeys she sent to finish me off before I feast on her traitorous heart!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he leapt across the room at Lucien, faster than a dried-out husk like him should've been capable of. I drew my dagger, ready to kill Lovidicus right then and there, contract be damned, if I couldn't pry him away from Lucien alive, but Lucien didn't so much as flinch. He took a single, graceful sidestep out of Lovidicus' path, then dropped his shortsword as his hand lit up in a flame spell.

"I'd reconsider that attitude, if I were you," Lucien purred, holding the small flame he'd conjured in his palm between them as a warm, flickering shield. "You've begun your quest for vengeance too late, I'm afraid; your lover has passed beyond your reach. Her child, on the other hand…"

"What do you know of our son?" Lovidicus' eyes narrowed, but he didn't take them off the flame spell.

"Only that he wants to see you, and has offered us a generous reward to bring you to him. Willingly, or otherwise." Lucien ran his thumb over the coil of rope. "I know which method I'd prefer, but in the interest of… efficiency, I am willing to compromise, if you behave yourself."

"So, you're here to kidnap me?" Lovidicus threw his head back and let out a harsh, cackling laugh. "Do you have any idea who you are dealing with, boy? I am Lord Lovidicus, esteemed peer of County Anvil and treasured friend of the Count himself. I am-"

"Likely presumed dead, and living in the cellar of a burned-out ruin. Any friends you once had will have died, or aged to the point of senility over the course of the decades you have languished here, and in such a decrepit state you are unlikely to make a favorable impression on the sons their power and fortunes will have passed on to. I am well aware of your station in this world, my lord," Lucien replied, somehow making a noble title sound like an insult. "If I were to burn you to ashes where you stand, or simply seal you in this room once more, not a soul in Tamriel would notice, let alone care. You would do well to keep that in mind."

Lovidicus' entire body trembled, and he fell to his knees. "E-except my son. He… He wanted to see me, yes? You have to take me to him, then! Out of this accursed prison! At long last, I will be free…" He sighed. "Take me with you. I will go willingly to my child's side."

"I know you will. But not before I have taken the necessary precautions to ensure the well-being of myself and my associate along the way."

"W-what do you mean?"

"You have two choices: either you allow me to bind your hands, in which case you may ride to the Imperial City with some semblance of your dignity intact, or resist and spend the journey bound, gagged, rolled into a blanket, and strapped across a horse's back like a piece of luggage."

"And if I refuse to come with you under such terms?"

"Then I present your severed head to your son, and tell him you died of natural causes before I could reach you."

"You… may bind my hands."

"Good. Silencer," Lucien said, not taking his eyes off Lovidicus. "Keep a watch on our… guest, while I see to his restraints."

I put my dagger back in its sheath and grabbed a torch off the wall before approaching them, holding it between me and Lovidicus like Lucien had done with his flame spell. Lucien gave me a nod once I'd gotten into position, then stepped behind Lovidicus to work on tying his hands together.

As soon as Lovidicus' face was out of Lucien's sight, it twisted into a sneer as he looked me over, eyes glinting with hunger. I tried not to flinch, or let my hands shake while I held the torch, to show him I wasn't afraid of him. He didn't seem convinced.

"Does my deathly visage frighten you? I think you may have stumbled into the wrong line of work, pet." He laughed. "Though I think we both know what a man like that is really keeping something like you around for. Tell me, how often does he make you-" His voice turned to a sharp, wordless cry as Lucien finished tightening the rope wrapped around his wrists with one last, harsh tug.

"I believe that concludes our preparations." Lucien stood, and hauled Lovidicus to his feet by the back of his shirt. "I think it's past time we were on our way."

"I'll get the door," I said, grateful for a chance to get away from Lovidicus, even if it was just by a few steps. I kept my torch with me as I followed them out of the room, partly to light the way and partly because it gave me something to focus on other than what Lovidicus had said to me.

When we reached the stairs leading out of the cellar, Lucien shoved Lovidicus onto his knees again. For the first time since we'd entered Lovidicus' room, he turned to look at me. "We need something to cover him with until night falls. Go and fetch the blanket; I'll see to it that he doesn't try anything foolish," he said, his voice softer than it had been while dealing with Lovidicus.

Lovidicus spat at me as I passed them. "Don't trust her," he hissed. "She'll just betray you in the end, the same way my Luktuv betrayed me. They're lying harlots, all of them, just waiting for a chance to bleed you dry!"

I half-ran up the stairs to where we'd left the horses, grateful that I had a torch to light my way. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why Lovidicus' words stung so much, but they cut me deeper than his fangs could have dreamed of. If he'd stopped at just calling me a woman, I could've brushed it off and moved on, because I would've made the same mistake if I were a stranger taking a quick look at me, but him thinking I'd chosen the wrong line of work stuck to me like an under-cooked strip of taffy. The man didn't know me, or Lucien, but that didn't mean he wasn't right. When he'd charged, I panicked while Lucien kept his head straight. If Lovidicus had tried to go for me, first, I probably would've gotten my throat torn out. Lucien hadn't seemed disappointed in me, but I couldn't have impressed him with that display, either. Maybe he did only like me for my body. And I didn't know why, or when, it started bothering me that he might not like the rest of me.

I hugged the blanket close to my chest as I made my way back down the stairs, trying to push the thought out of my head. I didn't have time to waste fussing over whether or not Lucien liked me. Or whether or not I genuinely liked him, for that matter; it wasn't like I had any past romantic attachments to compare him to, and I'd been the one to suggest we keep things casual in the first place. We had a starved vampire to smuggle and a traitor to catch. Maybe, once both of those problems were taken care of, I could start worrying about my feelings, and his, but until then I needed to focus on staying alive. Unless Lucien outright told me he was only interested in me for the sex, I could let myself think there was more to… whatever we had between us than that, and that would be enough to keep me satisfied for at least a little while longer.

Lovidicus kept mercifully quiet as we rode back to the Imperial City. He was alone on Patchy, while I sat behind Lucien on Shadowmere, with Patchy's reins tied to Shadowmere's saddle to keep Lovidicus from trying to make a run for it. With the blanket wrapped around him like a cloak, and his face smoothed by the skeever's blood Lucien had let him drink before leaving Crowhaven, he could've almost passed for human. The blanket covered the ropes tying his legs to Patchy's saddle, and the fact that his arms were still wrenched behind his back, too, and the few travelers we passed on the road didn't give us a second glance.

When we reached the city gates, I kept watch on Lovidicus while Lucien stabled the horses and arranged for a courier to deliver a note to Agronak, telling him to meet us in the abandoned house where he'd arranged the contract. We managed to get Lovidicus to the house without any guards taking notice, though we had to keep to the city's back alleyways for most of the way to keep him out of the worst of the sunlight, and waited there until night fell, and Agronak arrived.

Agronak entered the house breathing hard, as though he'd run all the way there from the Arena, and still sweaty from a training session. "You've done it, then?" he panted. "He's here? Show him to me!"

"All in good time," Lucien said, leading Lovidicus, still wrapped in the blanket, out of the shadows. "First, there is the matter of our payment to attend to."

"Of course. That's all you people care about, isn't it?" Agronak tossed a bulging leather pouch to the floor by Lucien's feet. The drawstring holding it shut loosened a little when it hit the ground, and pulled open just far enough to reveal a few gemstones, glittering in the moonlight. "Those should be worth a few thousand septims, to the right buyer. Does that cover it?"

Lucien lifted the pouch of the floor and tucked it away in his robes. If holding something so valuable had any effect on him, he didn't show it. "It will do." With a flourish, he flung the blanket off of Lovidicus. "Gray Prince, I present to you one Lord Lovidicus, and his vampiric affliction."

Lovidicus kept his eyes on the ground, his shoulders slumped in either shame or defeat. Compared to his son, he looked tiny and fragile, like a single gust of wind would turn him to dust and blow him away. Something on his cheeks glinted in the moonlight, and when a small, wet spot appeared on the stones by his feet, I realized they were tears. It was almost enough to make me feel a bit sorry for him. "M-my son…" he whispered. "It's really you."

"So you admit to being my father?" Agronak asked. "Don't think that makes up for the years you've spent denying me my birthright, old man. Save the crocodile tears for someone who cares."

"I denied you nothing, child." Lovidicus' head snapped up, leaning backward to look Agronak in the eye. "Had fate allowed it, I would have given you all I had to offer."

Agronak snorted. "Is that why you let your wife drive my mother away?"

"I did no such thing! In all the years I have walked this earth, never once have I married. I did nothing to drive your mother from my home; she left of her own accord, and sealed me in my chambers to ensure she was not followed. She stole you – my only child – away from me, denying me my rights as a father because I foolishly dared to reveal my true nature to her."

"Of course she left! How could anyone stay with a blood-sucking monster like you? You ruined her – she never trusted anyone after she left you – and you ruined me with your cursed blood!"

"Do you share in my curse, then? Doomed to live in shadow and sustain yourself on the vitality of others?"

"No! By Shinji, how could I have let myself live this long if I did? But I don't need to. Just… just knowing it's your curse that made me, that the same blood flows through my veins, even if it failed to turn me… That knowledge is a curse in itself."

Lovidicus took a step closer to Agronak. "My son… Had I known that the truth of your heritage would cause you such sorrow, I would never have allowed myself to be brought before you. I am sorry. Please, if there is any way I can make this up to you…"

"You can't. Nothing will ever fix this, old man. Nothing." Agronak sighed. "Knowing you didn't shun me on purpose is something, I guess, but it's too late for us to mean anything to each other, now. You can't change the past. It's time to move on."

"I… I see." Lovidicus backed away, shaking like a leaf, until he bumped into Lucien. "Perhaps it is time for me to go, then."

"Indeed it is," Lucien said, wrapping an arm around Lovidicus' waist to hold him in place. "Are you finished with him, Gray Prince?"

Agronak nodded. "I've seen enough. Let him go; death is too good for him."

"I'm afraid that isn't how this works. Blood must be spilled, or we have no contract. And as a contract has already been completed-"

"I don't care. Whatever your price is, I'll pay it, but I don't want him dead. Look at him, shaking in his boots and crying his wretched little eyes out! How am I supposed to get satisfaction out of watching him die? I don't care about revenge anymore; I just want to forget this."

"His death isn't meant to satisfy you; it is a tithe that must be paid to Sithis, for which there is no substitute."

Agronak put a hand on the hilt of his sword. "If you think I'm going to stand by and watch you slaughter a helpless man for the sake of your twisted little god…"

"But you already have." Before Agronak could so much as blink, Lucien unsheathed his shortsword and sliced Lovidicus' throat wide open.

Lovidicus lurched forward with a startled gurgle, his eyes wide and glassy, but Agronak caught him before he could hit the ground, falling to his knees along with his father. "What have you done?" he cried, holding his hand against Lovidicus' throat in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Exactly what you hired me to do. Don't act so surprised." Lucien took my hand and pulled me toward the door. "It's time we took our leave of you."

"I won't forget this!" Agronak called out after us. "You'll regret crossing the Gray Prince; I swear it on my father's grave!"


	26. Moment of Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter where I ended up throwing out most of its original draft, with the exception of some of the dialogue. The most notable changes here are, of course, the parts pertaining to the previous chapter's alternate "Origin of the Gray Prince" quest, as well as some changes to the dialogue at the end of this chapter that I hope make the conversation feel less uncomfortable than it did the first time around. I hope that I've done a better job at capturing Lucien's character here.

If Agronak's anger had done anything to set Lucien on edge, he didn't show it. He kept his head held high as we walked back to my shack, an arm slung around my waist like he'd hired me for the night and wanted to make a show of it, without taking so much as a glance behind us to make sure Agronak hadn't followed, or sent a guard after us. If anything, he seemed happier than when we'd left to go after Lovidicus, as though someone had lifted a weight off his shoulders. I half-expected him to start whistling a happy little walking song.

"Is this going to be a problem for us, later on?" I asked, once we'd found our way back to the twisty streets of the Waterfront, where no one would give a skeever's backside if they overheard us. "If the Arena's Grand Champion starts making a stink about the Dark Brotherhood, someone's bound to notice."

"I think not. Agronak cannot speak out about any events that transpired tonight without implicating himself, and facing the prison sentence associated with performing the Black Sacrament to gain our Dread Father's attention. He will remain docile, at least publicly, whether he wishes to or not."

"And if he decides to cause trouble for us privately?"

Lucien flexed the fingers of his free hand, then let it rest on the hilt of his shortsword for a moment. "I'd like to see him try."

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like he was right. We didn't hear any news of Agronak storming through the streets, shouting his anger to the heavens, or trying to hunt down assassins in his spare time. Life went on as usual, if not a little better after seeing something other than the Waterfront for a few days. The portion of the gems I'd gotten as payment didn't hurt things, either. I even felt a bit guilty for worrying so much about Agronak, instead of the traitor, when we got news that the traitor had struck again by killing Havilstein Hoar-Blood, who'd only just been chosen as the Bruma sanctuary's new Silencer.

Until I got my hands on a new issue of The Black Horse Courier while I was out on my roof one morning. I usually didn't take much of an interest in it, but when one of their delivery boys walked by handing out free copies, I figured it would give me something to do, at least, so I asked him to toss one up to me. At first, it just looked like the usual gossip and fretting over tiny snowstorms that wouldn't have raised an eyebrow in Skyrim, but a headline at the bottom of the first page, underneath some nonsense story about the Gray Fox, caught my attention.

It started off saying that Agronak had been attacked by a Dark Brotherhood assassin, followed by a quote of him asking why the guards hadn't taken more of an interest in the Dark Brotherhood since Phillida's death. Whoever had written the article seemed to agree with him, and questioned whether the City Guard were a bunch of frightened children hiding behind their mothers' skirts, among other things. It ended by asking how any normal person could feel safe from the Dark Brotherhood, when someone as strong and famous as the Arena's Grand Champion wasn't, and a demand that something be done before things got out of hand. A sinking feeling started in my gut as soon as I saw Agronak's name mentioned, and by the time I reached the end my hands had started shaking. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, then slid off my roof, careful to keep a firm hold on the newspaper so the wind didn't catch it and snatch it away, and let myself back inside to show it to Lucien. He'd know what to do about it, if anything needed to be done.

I found him sitting at my table, putting a stopper in a green glass bottle. A few flower petals and dried bits of leaf were scattered around his alchemy equipment, and he'd gotten a few smears of shimmery powder on his sleeves. He looked up from his potion when I shut the door behind me, probably a bit harder than I'd needed to.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"We might have a problem." I handed him the newspaper and pulled up a chair next to him.

His face froze into an unsettlingly neutral expression as he glanced over the page. "So, this is his grand revenge scheme. It certainly took him long enough to invent."

"What's going to happen when the guards catch wind of this?"

"At best, nothing at all. At worst, we may have another Phillida on our hands in the near future. I doubt that one article will be enough to stir them to action, but if this persists…"

"So, we've got to find a way to stop this from happening again."

"Ideally, yes. A direct assassination at this point would lend credibility to his story, and do more harm than good to organization's reputation, but perhaps we could find a way to either bribe or intimidate him into a more docile state."

"What if we had a way to kill him without murdering him?"

Lucien raised an eyebrow at me. "And how do you propose we accomplish that?"

"He's the Grand Champion. No one's going to get suspicious if someone challenges him to a fight and kills him in the Arena."

"It's not a bad idea. We would require control of a combatant in a position to present such a challenge, but-"

"I could do it. I spent a lot of time there after Martin died… before coming back to the Dark Brotherhood. It kept me busy. Made me too tired to dwell on things."

"As… convenient as that is, I don't know if, at this point in time, you would be the most appropriate member of our family to entrust with such a task."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Simply that challenging one such as Agronak to a direct confrontation would be a dangerous prospect for even our most experienced assassins – while in peak physical condition, which you are not. At present, your chances of success aren't high enough to be worth the risk."

"Am I supposed to just give up without trying, then?"

"You are supposed to live." Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. "Is that truly so much to ask of you?"

"I'd be all right," I replied, looking anywhere but his eyes. I didn't like the sick, guilty feeling the tired, worried look in them gave me. "If things go that badly for me, I can always yield. It's not like I want to get myself killed."

"I would advise against relying on the mercy of a man whose title is written in the blood of his fallen enemies." Lucien sighed. "But I would prefer not to discuss the matter any further, if you are quite finished. You know where I stand."

"I know… I'll stay out of the Arena." Saying it made me feel like a failure, but the way his expression softened made up for it, at least a little.

"Thank you."

I lasted about a week. I tried to keep my word, I really did, but something about not having much to fill my time with let Agronak, and what his father had thought of me, gnaw at the corners of my mind until it was damn near all I could think of. Challenging him in the Arena, and winning, would've proven that I wasn't just some useless pretty face – that I could protect myself, if I needed to, and I hadn't made a mistake in joining the Dark Brotherhood. It would've let me succeed where I'd failed at catching the traitor… I couldn't understand why Lucien wouldn't let me have that, just because it was a bit risky. As far as I was concerned, the risk was more than worth it.

One morning, I took my dagger with me when I climbed onto my roof, then slid off it while a group of fishermen walked by, to cover the sound of my feet hitting the ground. Then, I started walking at a pace just shy of a run to the Arena District, hoping I could get there before Lucien had a chance to notice I'd left so he couldn't try and stop me. If things didn't work out, he'd never have to know about it, and if they did, he couldn't be upset with me for taking care of something he'd admitted might turn into a problem. And, well, he hadn't ordered me to stay away from the Arena. He'd just advised it.

When I got there, Agronak wasn't what I'd expected. I could barely recognize him as the same man who'd sworn he'd make Lucien regret killing his father. His face looked thinner than the last time I'd seen him, like he hadn't been eating, and his bloodshot eyes were sunken into his skull, with ugly, purple-green circles beneath them. It even looked like a few clumps of his hair had fallen out, leaving blotchy, pale patches of bare skin scattered along his hairline.

His eyes lit up when he saw me. "You came back. Does… does that mean you're here to challenge me, then?"

"That was the plan." He sounded happier than he had any right to be, under the circumstances, and I couldn't tell if it was because he wanted to die or he was just that desperate for a fight. I didn't know which possibility was more unsettling.

He laughed, but there wasn't any joy in it. "Finally! It's been so long since I've had a challenge, I was almost afraid I'd never get a chance to… never mind. Just… go arrange the match. I'll see you in the Arena. That should do it… It has to."

\----------

When over an hour had passed without some form of noise coming from the roof, I realized that something was amiss. I went outside to find Remy gone, without so much as a note to explain his absence or current whereabouts. At the very least, I could be certain he was alive and well – if he'd been killed or injured, I would have heard something – but that brought me no closer to finding him. If he'd gone on a simple errand, he would have had no need for such secrecy, and I could think of nothing he might have reasonably gone to such trouble to keep from me. Unless…

I lost no time in making my way to the Arena District, in hopes of intercepting him before he had a chance to do anything stupid. Preparations for a match between the Gray Prince and an unknown challenger were well underway upon my arrival, however, and I had no means by which I might have forestalled the event. The Arena had strict regulations in place against combatants competing while pregnant, but contesting the match on those grounds, under such short notice, would cause a spectacle that would only serve to publicly humiliate the both of us, if I wasn't dismissed outright. I would have to trust that, if things went poorly, Remy would have enough sense to yield. And that his opponent would be in a sufficiently magnanimous mood to accept such an outcome. Defeated, I placed the traditional fifty-septim wager required for entry into the Arena as a spectator on the challenger, and claimed a table as near to the front of the seating area as possible. My doubts regarding the probability of his success remained, but I refused to bet against my own Silencer.

In the minutes leading up to the match, the seats around me filled until the balcony had almost reached its capacity. The buzz of a dozen conversations around me, all centered around the gory mess the Gray Prince was likely to make of his challenger, grated on my nerves to the point that, when it announced the start of the match, the grandiose, exaggerated tone of the announcer's voice was almost relaxing in comparison.

Remy emerged from the Blue Team's entryway with a cautious gait and a smile dripping with false cheer, Blade of Woe clutched tight in his hand. Had I known he would one day put it to such a use, I would have given him something enchanted, made of a higher quality material, when I'd first recruited him. His hair, blown to the side by a bitter winter breeze, left my fellow spectators with no doubt as to his identity, and his supporters were almost equal in number to Agronak's. If Arena matches were decided by popular opinion, they might have given me a small measure of comfort.

The Gray Prince, himself, had seen better days. Even at a distance, his complexion had noticeably paled, and he had lost the confident swagger he'd used when ordering his father's death. Weeks of regret had reduced him to a mere shadow of the man he once was; in such a state, his resemblance to his late, vampiric father became clear as a cloudless midnight sky. One might even have argued that, in a manner of speaking, he must have shared his father's thirst for blood, as well, to enter the Arena in such a state. Even so, his warrior's stance and treatment of his sword as a natural extension of his arm made Remy look like a child playing at being a soldier, in comparison.

The crowd's cheering intensified as the combatants drew closer to each other, reaching its crescendo when they stopped, only a few paces apart, at the Arena's center. Agronak raised his sword, sending Remy skittering out of his reach, only to drive its blade into the soft sand beneath his feet. The crowd fell silent as he threw his shield to the side, and dropped to his knees in an unmistakable gesture of defeat. The announcer, speechless for the first time in his career, stumbled over his words as proclaimed the unprecedented event of a Grand Champion yielding to his challenger. He voiced it as more of a question than the statement of an undeniable fact it was, as though he meant to remind Agronak of his purpose instead of bringing the match to a close.

Agronak made no move to rise, and instead of leaving the Arena to accept his lucky, unconventional victory, Remy stood rooted in place. He felt that Agronak would remain a potential hazard if left alive, no doubt, but it seemed that the dubious legality of slaying an unarmed, defeated man after their match had reached its end had forced him to stay his hand. At that point, the wisest course of action available to him was to accept his plan's failure, and let his quarry escape, for the time being, until he could formulate a new strategy.

He chose not to follow a wise course of action. As though in a trance, he shook his head and crossed the short distance between himself and his opponent. When he had come within arm's reach of Agronak, he stopped, and leaned down to murmur something in his ear. Agronak stiffened, then drew himself to his feet. With the speed of a much smaller man, he lifted Remy by the collar of his armor until his feet dangled a foot off the ground, leaning forward until their faces almost touched before snarling his reply, his face twisted into a mask of blind fury.

A moment of silence passed between them. Remy, to his credit, kept himself still and did not break eye contact. Agronak gave him a single, hard shake when it became apparent that Remy had no intention of saying whatever it was he'd wanted to hear, and voiced a bellowing half-syllable before the swift thrust of a dagger into his neck truncated his intended message. His face went slack, and he took a single, stumbling step backward before releasing his hold on Remy.

Remy kept his grip on his dagger, wrenching it out of his opponent's neck as he dropped to the ground on his hands and knees. Agronak staggered backward, blood spurting through the gaps between his fingers as he attempted to stanch the flow of blood from his wound by covering it with his hand. After his failed attempt at saving his father with the same method, he should have known better. He lay on the ground – dead, or close enough to death to render the distinction purely academic – moments later.

Amidst a sea of cheers and cries of protest, depending on which outcome each spectator had staked their septims on, Remy got to his feet and stripped his fallen opponent of his armor, as tradition dictated. I watched him until he disappeared through the Blue Team's entry gate, then made my own exit from the observation balcony before the rest of the crowd had a chance to clog the doorway. After collecting the profits of my successful wager, I concealed myself in the long shadows beneath the Arena's walls as I waited for Remy to begin his walk home.

He soon emerged from the Bloodworks, wearing what appeared to be a lighter version of the former Grand Champions armor. Its blood-red color suited him. I trailed behind him, close enough to avoid losing him around one of the city's countless blind corners, but leaving enough space between us that no casual observer would view it as anything out of the ordinary. When he turned off the main streets into a secluded, shadowed alley, I closed the distance between us and caught hold of him by the back of his armor.

With a sharp intake of breath, he whirled around, dagger in hand and eyes wide with fear. I caught his wrist before he could cause me any harm, and kept it pinned to one of the alley's stone walls until he had a chance to come to his senses. It seemed that his encounter with the traitor had soured his opinion on surprises.

When his breathing had evened out, I released him. "What happened to staying out of the Arena?"

"You… weren't supposed to know about that until I'd already won." Remy kept his eyes fixated on the ground, and kicked at a stray pebble.

"Did you really think it would take me that long to notice your disappearance?"

"I guess not… You can't blame a man for trying, though, right?" He looked up at me, his mouth quirked into a lopsided, rueful smile that made it difficult to remain irritated with him.

"When that man is trying to get himself killed, I'm afraid I can."

"But I'm alive. And Agronak isn't. Problem solved… ta-da?"

"Unfortunately, it does not solve the problem of you taking such an utterly foolish risk for no discernible reason."

Remy's smile faltered. "It's not like I did this because I thought it'd be fun to piss you off. I had reasons. Good ones. Why does it matter, anyway? This couldn't possibly have gone better; why are you acting like I've done something wrong?"

"And how, pray tell, did you expect me to react?"

"I don't know… Not like this? This was supposed to show you I'm still useful, and I can look after myself if I need to. I'm not some stupid, sickly little girl that you need to keep out of harm's way; I'm a grown man, and none of this," Remy gestured to his torso, concealed by the loose, shapeless fit of his Arena uniform, "changes that! I needed you to see that… This was the only way I could think of."

"This… was all just a means of proving your worth as a part of the Dark Brotherhood?" It seemed Lord Lovidicus' ravings had cut deeper than I'd thought.

"Yes." His shoulders slumped.

I sighed, the last of my anger dissipating like a morning fog in afternoon sunlight. It seemed only fitting, I supposed, that my attempts at shielding him from harm had only fed his determination to put himself in harm's way. This was exactly why Speakers were encouraged to view the assassins under their command as nothing more than a valuable resource, but the time to remind myself of that had long since passed. The Purification had made a sentimental fool of me. I had nothing to gain by denying it. "An admirable sentiment, but it was hardly necessary. You proved yourself quite decisively with your slaying of Adamus Phillida, and the Purification that came after it. You performed admirably while completing the Celedaen and Draconis contracts, as well. I trust my own experience with you far more than the snap judgments of a half-mad vampire."

Remy shook his head. "Then why… Why haven't you wanted to let me fight, lately? You wouldn't have brought me with you on the Lovidicus contract, if it hadn't been too dangerous to leave me on my own, and then you wouldn't even let me try to help you with Agronak… What was I supposed to think? If you trust me so much, why not trust me to take care of myself on contracts, when I've managed just fine on my own before now?"

"Because, as a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, it is my duty to ensure that no assassin under my command comes to unnecessary harm. Losing a single Family member out of an entire sanctuary is forgivable, and expected, every now and again. To fail at preserving the last remaining resident of my sanctuary, however, would be taken as a sign of utter incompetence by the rest of the Black Hand. Beyond that, I do enjoy your company, despite your apparent obsession with shattering what remains of my sanity, and I would prefer not to needlessly put your life at risk."

"That makes sense, I guess. I… enjoy your company, too." His smile returned, and a faint violet tinge colored his cheeks. I hadn't he slightest idea how he'd managed to deceive so many of his targets into lowering their guard around him, when he wore his heart so clearly on his sleeve.

"Will you please refrain from haring off to recklessly endanger yourself in the future, then?"

"I'll try not to. I wouldn't have run off this time, if I'd known it would bother you so much… I didn't give you a heart attack or anything, did I? You look a bit pale."

"I'm not that old, Silencer."

He shrugged. "Well, no, but you're older than I am. Probably significantly. And you've been under a lot of stress, lately."

"I am not having a heart attack. And for all I know, you're over a hundred." In truth, nothing could have convinced me that he was a day over thirty, at the most – and even that seemed like a bit of a stretch, given his usual demeanor – but that was beside the point.

"Gods, no! I'm twenty."

"And I'm nowhere near old enough to have to worry about heart attacks."

"Fine." Remy sighed. "Sorry for caring about you."


	27. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What you see here is about the first half of this story's final chapter, which I have decided to split into two parts so that it doesn't end up at a completely unreasonable length once I've finished expanding on everything that I wanted to expand on. The biggest changes I made here were reworking some of the dialogue, to make it feel more natural, and going into more depth on Lucien's motivation for taking the actions he does at this chapter's end.

"What, pray tell, did you say to the late Gray Prince to inspire such anger in him?" Lucien asked, after we'd long since passed out of earshot of anyone else who might've seen our match. "For a moment, I feared you would have no choice but to accept his yield."

"I, um…" I kept my eyes fixed on the cobblestones under my feet. "I asked him how his father was. Didn't expect him to catch my meaning quite so fast, though."

He made a small hum of approval. "Well done. It seems I have underestimated your guile, Silencer."

"Thank you." It wasn't much, but it was all I trusted myself to say, what with the way he'd gone and made me feel all warm and tingly inside.

The rest of our walk back to the Waterfront was quiet, but not in a bad way. We'd both said all we needed to, really, and things had turned out about as well as they could have. Agronak was dead, Lucien hadn't gotten too upset with me for it, and he thought I was worth keeping around; right then, that was all I needed to know. Asking for anything more out of him would've just been pushing my luck.

When I opened my shack's door to find a rolled-up note sitting in front of the fireplace, I couldn't stop myself from wondering how long it would take the Black Hand to run out of fingers. At this rate, it seemed like the traitor wouldn't stop because someone had caught him, but because he'd killed off everyone but himself. Lucien picked it up and read it straight away, like he always did, and I was about to tell him I didn't want to know who it was, this time, until something in it made him smile.

"Either I really have driven you insane, or we've finally gotten some good news," I said.

"We have been summoned to Bravil for a Black Hand meeting. We have no time to lose; it is possible that we are late already. Apparently our Listener has uncovered pressing information about the traitor that needs to be discussed."

"So, it is good news?" I asked, as I hurried after him to the stables.

"Perhaps. It is possible that his identity has been brought to light, and this meeting will be a simple matter of finding him and bringing him to justice, but after all that has transpired…" He sighed, and his smile faded. "It is equally possible that the purpose of this meeting is to discuss a contingency plan in the event that we are left without sufficient Speakers to govern all of our sanctuaries. At present, we have somewhat of a succession crisis on our hands."

"Oh." It wasn't the answer I'd hoped for, but I figured I should've known better than to get my hopes up like that. "At the risk of sounding disloyal, if the Night Mother talks to the Listener, why doesn't she just tell him who the traitor is?"

"Because her purpose in speaking to the Listener is to guide the Dark Brotherhood, not run it for us. She cares for us as her children, and wants to ensure that we remain strong, even if that means allowing those of us who are too weak or dim-witted to protect ourselves to die, at the hands of the traitor or any other enemy. It was this same willingness to sacrifice her children that won her a place at our Dread Father's side, as his beloved wife. If you'd prefer a deity that coddles its followers, then I am afraid you have joined the wrong guild."

"I guess that makes sense. It sounds better than her hovering over our shoulders all the time and making a fuss over everything we do, at least." I shrugged. "I don't think any of the Divines ever liked me much, anyway."

"I can't imagine why." A ghost of a smile passed over Lucien's face as he swung himself onto Shadowmere's back and offered me a hand up. He looked beautiful there, with his robes blending into Shadowmere's hair, like they'd been made for each other, and the pale blue, winter sky stretching out to the ends of the earth behind him.

I took his hand and hauled myself up behind him. "And here I was, thinking that she was supposed to be my horse, now."

"If you wish for our positions to be reversed, you need only ask, my Silencer."

"I'm fine right here, thanks. She listens to you better than me, and I don't have to deal with the wind in my face, this way." I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my face into his back. "Does that offer only apply here and now, or can I take you up on it in… other places, as well?"

"I'd like to see you try that in your current state…"

"Oh, there are plenty of ways to get around that, if you're interested. Can I take that as a 'yes,' for now?"

"We can discuss the matter further after we have survived whatever lies waiting for us in Bravil."

"Fine. I'm going to hold you to that, though. No trying to weasel your way out of it, or pretending you forgot. I know better."

"Of course. I am nothing if not a man of my word." With a single, light tap of his heels, Shadowmere sped off toward Bravil. None of the tension that had swirled around us after finding out the traitor had survived the Purification and killed J'Ghasta, or while dragging Lovidicus to meet with Agronak, followed after us as we rode across the winter countryside. For a moment, it felt like everything had gone back to the way it was before the traitor had switched my dead drop orders, and I let myself relax and enjoy the journey, whatever lay at the end of it.

The sun had set by the time we made it into the city, and the shadowed outlines of the worn-down, half-rotted houses, and the pitch-dark alleys between them, that lined its narrow streets loomed over us in a way that set me on edge as we walked past them. Just before we reached the statue of the Lucky Old Lady that stood beside Ungolim's house, an arrow whistled through the air just above our heads and sunk into the soft wood of a house somewhere behind us with a muffled thud. I squinted into the darkness in the direction it had come from, and caught a quick flash of movement somewhere near the chapel before it disappeared around a corner. Before I had a chance to think better of it, I ran after it. Lucien called out something behind me, but I couldn't let myself turn back to find out what it was. Not when I was certain I had the traitor within my reach. He'd seen where I'd gone; if he didn't trust me to handle things alone, he could always follow me.

I must've sprinted halfway across the city by the time I got close enough to the little flashes of movement to make out its shape. Then, I turned one last corner into an empty, dead-end alley, without any sign of the shadowed figure I'd followed there. I'd lost Lucien somewhere along the way, too, probably on one of the dozens of tight corners the traitor had led me around. As I tried to figure out how to explain myself to him, and whether I'd actually seen the traitor or just imagined him, I heard a noise behind me. I whirled around, dagger at the ready, only to find Ungolim himself standing between me and my way out of the alley, with his bow in hand.

"Listener! By Sithis, am I glad to see you. The traitor just tried to kill me and my Speaker, and I think he's still somewhere nearby. If we both start looking now, and get Lucien to help us, maybe we can still find him!" I put my dagger back in its sheath, hoping he hadn't thought I was trying to threaten him.

Ungolim sighed, and shook his head. "Unfortunate little puppet… You showed such promise; it's a shame things have to end like this."

"What are you talking about? Nothing's ended yet. If we can just start looking, I'm sure-"

"Your loyalty, as admirable a trait as it is, has blinded you. The traitor is none other than your Speaker, Lucien Lachance! I know that he is dear to you, but if you do not wish for your life to be forfeit along with his, you must help me find and kill him, before he can strike again. You will be richly rewarded for your service, I assure you."

"But that's ridiculous! Lucien loves the Dark Brotherhood more than anything; he'd never betray us! You can't expect me to turn on him when I know he's innocent… right?"

"Then I am afraid that you do not know your Speaker as well as you think you do. I understand that this is a hard truth to accept, but I have compelling evidence that suggests-"

"What evidence?" I clapped a hand over my mouth as soon as I'd said it. His mind may have turned to mush, but he was still the Listener, and I'd have bet quite a few septims on there being a rule against interrupting him.

"I suppose that you, of all the members of our Family, have a right to know." Ungolim's face softened. "You know that your Speaker had another Silencer, Maria, before you, yes?"

I nodded, still not quite trusting myself to speak without making a bigger mess of things.

"I have recently received a troubling piece of information about the circumstances leading up to her death."

"Troubling, how?"

"Troubling in that he made… certain advances toward her, shortly before her death. Advances that she rejected, which my source believes led him to murder her in a jealous rage."

"So, you're just going to kill him because someone else said that he might have killed his last Silencer? How does that prove he's the traitor?" I didn't know whether I wanted Lucien to find us, and set things straight, or stay away, where I knew he'd be safe.

"Because her manner of death was consistent with all of the traitor's victims, both before and after her. Lachance had no obvious reason to cause the deaths of his other victims, and so our suspicions never turned to him, even after tying the traitor to Cheydinhal, but in this case, he allowed himself to slip." Ungolim's face twisted into a cruel little smile. "And it will be his undoing."

"You can't say for certain that he killed her, though. That doesn't prove anything. Maybe your source was lying, or just confused."

"I trust my source. Believe me when I say that he has no reason to lie about such things, and had as much difficulty in accepting the truth as you have. He would not have brought this to my attention if he was not sure of himself."

I shook my head. "I don't believe you. Maybe he likes killing things a bit more than he should, but don't all of us? I know he can be a bit of an ass sometimes, but I've never seen him lose control of himself; he wouldn't just fly off the handle like that. I mean, I don't always do what he wants, and I haven't turned up dead."

"And do you think that will still be the case when you grow tired of his company? Or he tires of yours?"

"Yes! I'd still be his Silencer, wouldn't I? It's our job to work together, whether we're sleeping together or not. Divines know I've put up with worse for a few septims…"

"Such loyalty… Wasted on a traitor. I hope your Speaker realizes the value of what he has so casually tossed aside."

"But Lucien's been with me ever since the traitor got to J'Ghasta! He couldn't possibly have snuck off to kill so many people without me noticing, so he can't be the traitor." At that point, I didn't think anything I might've said stood a snowflake's chance in Oblivion of changing his mind, but I couldn't let myself stop trying. I'd lost too much already to let go of Lucien without a fight.

"Are you certain? You have never slept, while he remained awake, or left his presence during your waking hours, at any point over these past months?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then there is every possibility that he took advantage of those opportunities to sneak away and commit his murders, all while trusting you to serve as a convenient alibi. You have been used, Silencer, and I would prefer not to see your master claim another innocent life. I will not ask you again: will you help what remains of the Black Hand to bring your Speaker to justice?"

"No. This isn't justice. You're wrong! If you'd just let him explain himself, I'm sure he'd-"

"Attempt to charm his way out of it, and put on a very convincing performance, I'm sure." Ungolim tutted at me. "You have more than just your own life to consider now, do you not? Think before throwing everything away for traitorous filth that would, in your position, gladly cast you aside in order to save his own skin."

I took a step back. "How do you know about that?"

"It is my duty as Listener to be aware of any pressing developments regarding members of our Family. The Night Mother provides insight into a great many things." His face broke into a small, sad smile. "Though, in this case, I received a letter from your Speaker after your latest contract."

"See? If he's a traitor who wants us all dead, why would he do something like that?"

"Because, at least for the time being, you are a useful pawn, whose presence benefits him. It seems that you truly will refuse to listen to reason. What a pity; you showed such promise…"

My heart beat like a drum against my chest, and my blood turned to ice in my veins. I'd lost our argument, and I knew it. But I still couldn't let myself give up. Not because I needed Lucien in my life, but because I wanted him to be a part it for as long as I could keep him there. Losing a source of a few extra septims to keep myself and, eventually, a child fed didn't scare me; losing someone I'd genuinely started to feel something for, before I'd had a chance to fully make sense of what that feeling was, scared me more than seeing Mehrunes Dagon in the flesh. "This isn't reason. It's madness. Why can't you see that?"

"Then I am afraid your fate is sealed. I am truly sorry, Silencer, but your misplaced loyalty has cost you your life." Ungolim nocked an arrow onto his bowstring, drew it back in a slow, steady motion, and let it fly.

I ducked to the side quick enough to keep from taking the arrow in my neck, or my chest again, but it still tore through my shoulder, leaving an ugly gash in its wake. The pain knocked me off balance, for a moment, and I stumbled, then fell over backward into an old, rotten crate. Its jagged edges dug into the back of my knees hard enough to make my eyes water. Trying to get up only earned me what felt like hundreds of splinters and scratches in my hands and legs that made me wish I'd had time to change into my Dark Brotherhood armor before leaving the Waterfront. It would've given me a bit of extra padding between my skin and the crate's sharp, broken-off edges, at least.

I stopped trying to pull myself out of the crate when Ungolim took a few steps toward me and readied another arrow. I knew I wouldn't be dodging this one. "Please. Isn't there another way?" I asked, searching his face for any sign that he might change his mind.

"You had your chance, Silencer. Now your choice is made, and you will have to face its consequences. Lachance will suffer as a traitor deserves, but you are, at least, deserving of a more merciful end. Now hold still, and I'll make this as painless as possible."

I screwed my eyes shut and grit my teeth together, to keep myself from flinching or whimpering like a kicked puppy before Ungolim's arrow hit. I knew it was stupid, and pointless, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. At least I could die with a few scraps of my pride left, that way.

But the flash of pain, followed by whatever death felt like, never came. Instead, I heard a small, squishing noise and a faint gasp, then the clatter of an arrow falling to the ground. I opened my eyes to find Ungolim standing stock-still, bow in hand, with his face frozen into a shocked blank. A moment later, he fell to his knees, then toppled, face-first, onto the fog-slicked cobblestones, a silver shortsword sticking out of his upper back. I tensed up, expecting the traitor to step out of the shadows and kill me, too, but when a black-robed figure appeared out of the night air, I found myself looking up at Lucien, instead.

\----------

My shortsword had severed the Listener's spine as though it were nothing more than a sheet of parchment. Death had come to him as swift and painlessly as a man in our line of work had any right to hope for, but I found none of the satisfaction that usually accompanied such a flawless kill. Simultaneously, I felt a similar lack of regret for my actions. In the moment, I'd had little choice.

I had missed much of their conversation, but overheard enough of its ending to realize that the Listener had passed beyond the point of reason. Standing idly by as he executed Remy under false pretenses would have only proven my guilt, in his eyes, and the time for nonviolent intervention, if one had ever existed, had long since passed. Only one logical course of action laid before me, and I had taken it. A loyal Silencer held infinitely more value to both myself and the Dark Brotherhood as a whole than a Listener driven to madness by the traitor's lies. Allowing him to live would have led to my death, as well, leaving the traitor to take advantage of the Black Hand's false sense of security to finish his work. Ungolim had sent his own soul to the Void the moment he had allowed the traitor's counsel to poison his mind against the Night Mother's wisdom; I had merely acted as the instrument of our Dread Father's will. If I had become a traitor, myself, in the process, I was willing to face judgment once the true threat to our Family had been neutralized.

Even so, I felt a sense of unease at how quickly I had turned on my Listener to preserve my Silencer. Had the best interests of the Dark Brotherhood not aligned with my own desire for Remy's survival, I felt a distinct lack of certainty that I would have acted differently.

"Why did you do that?" Remy made a pitiful sight, trapped in a ruined crate, with bloodied palms and a look of slack-jawed astonishment on his face.

"This is why I tried to call you back to my side. Had I arrived but a moment later, I would have been too late." A deliberate non-answer, on my part, in an effort to avoid giving voice to a sentiment I dared not acknowledge. I had no way of knowing whether my heart would still be beating, once the traitor had been neutralized; I had no business placing it in another man's hands.

"I'm sorry." He winced as he made another failed attempt at getting out of the crate. "I think you still are too late, really. He thought you were the traitor."

"So I heard." I clasped the hand of his least injured arm and helped him to his feet. "Whatever his reasoning, however, he would not have given such consideration to the traitor's words if he were not a member of the Black Hand, which narrows our list of suspects significantly."

"It was because of what happened to your last Silencer. Maria."

"What about her?"

"He said you murdered her, after she 'rejected your advances.'"

"Did he, now?" It seemed that, at long last, the traitor had overplayed his hand. Apart from myself, only one Dark Brother had such intimate knowledge of my interactions with Maria, and the manner of execution the traitor had used for the majority of his victims was certainly a match for his more… sadistic tendencies. I'd trained the boy myself – had practically viewed him as a child, of sorts – and the same ruthless skill that had given me cause to recommend him as a Silencer would have applied itself well to systematically eliminating half the Black Hand. I found no joy in my realization of his guilt, but I could no longer allow myself to be blinded by my affection for my former protégé. The only question that remained was why he had chosen me, in particular, as his scapegoat. "Then the traitor has done us a favor, this day. Let us hope that it is not too late for us to stop him."

"What do you mean? Even if you know which one of them did it, what can we do? The traitor has the rest of the Black Hand convinced that you're the guilty one, and they won't listen to me…"

"Perhaps not, but if my suspicions are correct, I know where you might obtain indisputable evidence to support our claim. I have a job for you, Silencer."

"What is it?"

"You are to journey to the city of Anvil, and gain admittance to the cellar of its lighthouse by any means necessary. Search it for any sign that its occupant is the traitor we seek. You are then to return with your findings, whatever they may be, to Applewatch, the farm where you killed the old Draconis woman; it should serve as a safe rendezvous point, for the time being. I will be waiting for you there with further instructions."

Remy shook his head. "Why aren't we going together? You said it yourself that it's dangerous to be alone, at a time like this. I'm not leaving you."

"I do not have time to argue with you about this, Remy. For Sithis' sake, just do what you're told! We haven't much time; I will be hunted day and night by the Black Hand, once they realize what has transpired here. This is our one chance to collect the evidence we need, and my presence at your side will make that impossible. Allow me to draw their attention away from you so that you have the time you need to exonerate us both." Under better circumstances, I might have dealt with him less harshly, but the time for delicateness had passed. Better that he live believing I was cruel than die from ill-timed kindness.

"Do you promise they won't catch you before I get back?"

"You have my word." It was the first, and only, time I'd lied to him. Such a promise was no longer in my power to make, but it served a necessary purpose.

"All right. I'll go." Still, he hesitated, eyes brimming with anguish and his mouth set in the first true frown I'd seen from him since the Purification. "But, in case this is the last time we see each other, I want to tell you that I… I think I might be in-"

I pulled him close to me, silencing him with a kiss. "There will be time enough for that later. Now go, and may Sithis help us all!" With that, I cast a Chameleon spell over myself and set off at a brisk walk toward the nearest city gate, adrift in the lingering sensation of Remy's wind-chapped lips and tangled, sweat-damp hair. If he took my abrupt departure as a dismissal of his feelings, then so be it. If we met again, I could explain myself then, under brighter circumstances. If we did not, it would be better for him if his last memory of me was one of disappointment, rather than false hope. Had I allowed him to finish speaking, at that moment, I might have lost the will to leave him, and all would have been lost. I only hoped that all was not lost, already.


	28. Precipice of the Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was more than a little difficult to write, and on more than one occasion I struggled over deciding whether or not it justified an increase of this fanfic's rating to M (for Mathieu), but overall, I'm happy with the way it turned out. It was also somewhat bittersweet for me to write, because while I'm happy that this rewrite is almost finished, I'm going to miss this story when I'm no longer working on it. The largest change made to this chapter, in this case, is its increase in length to over double its original word count. In retrospect, I might have been able to find a place to split it into two chapters, but I'm not sure that any natural chapter breaks occur anywhere near its midway point. Mathieu has been given a much larger part in this chapter's revision than he had in its first draft, as well, which I hope is an improvement. Beyond that, my goal here was showing some events that were only summarized in this chapter's original draft, and adding a bit of challenge to some things that just felt overly convenient the first time around.

I didn't stay in Bravil any longer than I had to – just long enough to pick a few splinters out of my skin and rub a healing potion on the worst of the scrapes and cuts I'd picked up trying to haul myself out of the crate. They still stung a little, but at least I knew I wouldn't need to worry about tearing anything open again. I didn't have any more time to waste on patching myself up.

When I reached the stables and found Shadowmere waiting for me, I wasn't sure what to make of it. I'd thought Lucien would take her, since he had the whole rest of the Black Hand to outrun, but he must've decided that my getting to Anvil and back was more important. Which didn't do anything to settle my nerves, or the sicker-than-usual feeling building up in my belly, really. I hoped he'd stolen one of the stable's other horses, at least, but I couldn't be certain whether any of them had gone missing since the last time I'd seen them. I tried to convince myself that he had, anyway, so I wouldn't distract myself worrying over what would happen if the rest of the Black Hand caught up with him, and risk missing some clue that might prove who the traitor was. It almost worked.

Shadowmere didn't give me so much as a flick of her tail as I climbed onto her back. With a single, light tap of my heels, she shot off toward Anvil like she had the hordes of Oblivion behind her.

When Anvil's stables came into view a few hours later, I leapt off Shadowmere's back before she'd come to a full stop, and took off running for the city gates. If the stablehands decided to take her in, I'd deal with paying them later, and if they didn't, I figured she could take care of herself for a little while.

The sun had only just begun to creep its way over the horizon as I sprinted through Anvil, my knees and lungs screaming at me the whole way. I was grateful that its streets were almost empty so early in the morning, so no one could see me wheezing like an old man, or wonder what fit of madness had convinced me it was a good idea to push myself so far past my limits. Running would get me to the lighthouse faster than walking, and every bit of pain I felt just made me feel like I was working that much harder. Over and over, to the rhythm of my feet slapping against the ground, I promised myself that, as long as I didn't let myself slow down, for anything, I'd get to Lucien before the rest of the Black Hand, because I wanted it more than they did, and that would make me faster than them. Lucien had promised they wouldn't catch up to him before I did, and I'd just have to trust that he'd meant it.

Where Anvil itself had been quiet, its docks were already bustling by the time I reached them. A small army of sailors and fishermen hovered around their boats, fussing with crates and coils of rope that I had to either swerve around or leap over if I didn't want to risk getting my legs caught and falling flat on my face. A few of them gave me strange looks as I passed, but most didn't look up from their work. Either they assumed I was some fool traveler, about to miss his ship's boarding call, or they just didn't give a skeever's backside about whatever had brought me there. Still, the docks weren't any more of a mess than the Waterfront back in the Imperial City, and I had enough experience running through there that I didn't have any real trouble reaching the lighthouse.

Its cellar door held fast when I gave its handle a turn, and throwing myself against it only earned me a bruised shoulder and a ringing sound n my ears. Someone had locked it up tight, and I didn't have enough time or lockpicks on my hands to waste them fiddling with it. I needed the key, and I needed it fast.

The lighthouse's main door opened faster than a barrel of cheap mead during the New Life Festival, and slammed against its inside wall with a satisfying bang. An old Nord, seated on a chair in front of the fireplace that took up more than its share of space in the small, round room, jumped up at the sound, and turned to look at me, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline in surprise. A ring of keys hung from his belt, and it was all I could do to keep myself from dashing across the room and grabbing at them.

The old Nord blinked at me a couple of times, then cleared his throat and gave me a thin, forced smile. "Well now, what brings you to old Fog-Eye at this hour?"

"I need the key to the cellar! Now!" I shifted my weight from one foot to another, to make it feel like I hadn't stopped running.

"Why? What's going on, here?"

Normally, I'd have been happy to explain myself, or at least come up with a lie or two. Fog-Eye seemed like a decent enough sort, if you ignored him sharing his cellar with the traitor. But things weren't normal. "There's no time! Give me the key, or I'm taking it from you."

He looked halfway ready to say no, but something in my face must've convinced him not to. "All right, then. I don't want no trouble." His hands shook as he fumbled with his belt for a moment, then tossed his whole key ring at me. "Just take the damn key, and leave me alone."

I heard his door slam shut and lock behind me as I took off toward the cellar again, squeezing the key ring until it left an imprint of itself in my hand. My fingers felt stiff and slippery as I tried to fit key after key into the cellar door's keyhole, without a single one of them working. As I started running low on keys to try, my palms started sweating, and the key ring slipped out of my hands. I swore as I bent down to pick it up, hoping I'd remember what end I'd started working from so I wouldn't have to try every last one of them over again. In my rush to get the door open, though, I hadn't paid any mind to what the keys looked like, so I picked an end at random and hoped for the best.

Three keys in, the thrice-damned lock finally turned, and the door swung open with a creak I probably could've heard from a mile off. A wave of sour, rotten air rushed over me, like it had been trapped down there and waiting for a chance to escape, and I gagged as I staggered away from the door. I stopped when I could smell the sea again, and the first fish of the day getting unloaded at the docks. For a moment or two, I let myself sit down on the sandy ground, sucking in breath after breath to steady myself, and to keep myself from trying to puke on a mostly-empty stomach.

Once my belly stopped feeling like someone had reached inside me and started squeezing my insides around like lumps of clay, I got to my feet and gave the cellar another try. The stench hadn't gone anywhere, but it had mixed with the outside air enough to make it breathable, at least. I couldn't see much of anything in the dark at the bottom of the stairs, but every moment or two it brightened just enough for me to trust that the traitor had left some kind of light in his home, and I wouldn't need to make myself a torch.

Still gagging a bit on the smell, I hurried down the stairs as fast as I dared. At the bottom, a few flickering torches cast a dim, warm light over a room that wouldn't have looked out of place in a butcher's shop. Rotting bodies of people and a few unlucky sheep, some whole and some mutilated until they weren't much more than piles of meat, covered most of the floor. A few of them had spilled over onto the furniture, too, draped over crates and a dresser like a necromancer's harem. The place gave Mehrunes Dagon's plane of Oblivion a run for its septims.

I found myself a path through the room, keeping my eyes locked on the walls, and not the puddles of blood and guts I kept stepping in, until I reached the battered, wooden door on the other side of it. The cellar key didn't fit the lock, but another, smaller key beside it on the key ring did, and the door swung outward from a room not much larger than a wardrobe. An odd sort of shelf, fashioned out of what looked like a hunk of driftwood, filled most of its back wall, covered in lit, half-spent candles that had attached themselves to the wood with their growing puddles of liquid wax. A severed head, nestled in a wreath of flowers, sat at their center, a battered journal beside it. The head looked like it had seen better days, with its shrunken, greenish skin that had flaked off in places, and the clumps of hair missing from its scalp, but had dried out in a way that didn't look too far off from a basket of draugr parts I'd seen for sale in the Imperial City market, a year or two back. The traitor must've let it rot for a while before trying to preserve it.

If there had been enough of the head's face left for anyone to recognize it, I might've tried to use that as my evidence, but with so much of it shriveled up or just plain missing, I didn't think even Lucien could've convinced the rest of the Black Hand that it meant something to the traitor, and I hadn't just stolen it from a grave, somewhere. I decided to leave it where it was, and picked up the journal, instead. It started off in a child's shaky handwriting, with half the letters crooked or facing the wrong way, talking about how he'd just gotten settled in a new house and the games he played with his mother. A few pages later, in an entry that had gone runny in places from what were probably tears, that same handwriting said that his mother had died, after 'the hooded man' cut off her head. Everything after that was a jumbled, un-dated mess of mad poetry, revenge plots, and childish ramblings, with a few entries that were just single words repeated over and over again. All of it focused on Lucien, and making him look guilty of the traitor's murders, like a starving dog focused on a scrap of meat. I couldn't have asked for better evidence.

With the journal tied onto my belt, I ran back to the stables, where Shadowmere stood just outside the paddock, tail swishing back and forth like a ticking clock. I hopped onto her back and steered her toward Bruma, before giving her a tap of my heels that sent her running at a speed she'd never reached before, and would never reach again. I'd never felt so tired in my life, but I knew I couldn't afford to stop and rest. I could sleep all I wanted once I knew Lucien was safe, curled up next to him in a nice, warm bed instead of sprawled out on the cold ground, alone.

Soon, but still too late for my liking, the frosty plains around Anvil gave way to the snow-covered hills of Bruma County. Except for a lot more weeds in its garden, Applewatch didn't look much different than it had the last time I'd seen it. As far as I could tell, the house was empty, and had been since I'd finished the Draconis contract. I couldn't see any footprints in the snow around it, not a wisp of smoke curled out of its chimney, and its front door even had a few, lingering cobwebs spun in its corners. Lucien had done a good job at covering his tracks. The rest of the Black Hand couldn't have possibly found him there, yet. Not without leaving some trace of themselves behind.

I should've known, when Shadowmere reared up and almost threw me off her back at the front door, that something was wrong. That I wouldn't find what I expected, or wanted, when I got inside. But I couldn't see past the shred of hope I'd found with the traitor's journal, after trying so hard to get it there on time.

Until I flung the door open to find myself staring up at an Altmer woman I'd never seen before, dressed in the same sort of robes Lucien had always worn. She was a good head-and-a-half taller than me, and she'd positioned herself so that I couldn't get a good look around her, to see what was in the house. After getting a good look at the wide, blood-stained smile on her face, I wasn't sure I wanted to see what was behind her.

"Who are you?" It was all I could think to ask, under the circumstances.

"Silencer! At last, you've arrived! My name is Arquen," she said, eyes shining under her hood. "Join us in celebration, for the crisis that has threatened our Family for so long is finally at an end. The traitor, Lucien Lachance, has been dealt with. No longer will you suffer under his treacherous guidance!"

"W-what have you done with him?" I tried to keep my voice level, clenching my hands into fists at my sides. Maybe this was just another test of my loyalty, like when Ungolim had tried to talk me into siding against Lucien. Maybe they'd just tortured him a little, and he'd still be alive enough to heal, if I could keep myself calm long enough to explain things.

"We have merely rewarded him as a traitor deserves. He has been stripped of his title, all his holdings, and… well, you'll see. All that was once his will now be passed on to you, as is our custom." Arquen handed me a set of still-warm black robes. "It is my honor to bestow upon you the title of Speaker. We five – the two of us, Belisarius Arius, Mathieu Bellamont, and Banus Alor – are now all the remains of the Black Hand. Even worse, we have lost both our Listener and his successor! Now that you have joined us, we can invoke an ancient ritual to wake the Night Mother from her slumber, so that she may guide us through this troubled time. When darkness falls, we must away to our Lady's home. Take this time to rest, and prepare yourself."

I only half-listened to her, hugging the robes against my chest like they could stop everything she'd said from being true. Like they could magically make Lucien appear, alive and well, and explain that this was all just some sort of misunderstanding. "Where is he? What did you do?"

"Why don't you have a look? Lachance tried to defend himself, traitorous worm that he was, but his lies fell on deaf ears! As you can see, he was no match for the combined power of the Black Hand. He barely put up a fight; it was like slaughtering a sweet little lamb!" Arquen stepped aside and took a bow, gesturing, with a flourish, toward the room behind her.

By the dim light of a few torches scattered around the room, I could just make out the outlines of a double bed sat nested in one corner, with a table and some rickety chairs in another. Three men, also in robes, sat around the table, talking and laughing with one another. I recognized Belisarius from the Black Hand meeting, but I'd never seen the Breton, who must've been Mathieu, or Dunmer, who must've been Banus, before. At the room's center, something dangled from the rafters, swaying lightly back and forth between a circle of lit candles.

I took a step forward, then another, and another, until I'd gotten close enough to see that the something was Lucien. Or at least, what was left of him. I'd never have figured out it was him, if I hadn't known it beforehand, and Arquen hadn't pointed right at him.

They'd stripped him naked and hung him by his ankles, with his arms tied behind his back. He couldn't have fought back if he'd wanted to. All his hair had been cut off or torn out, with bits of it scattered all around the room like bits of dark-brown dust. They'd cut off… just about everything there was to cut off, really, except for a few stray fingers and toes.

His face had been bruised and carved up with their knives and fingernails – and what might have been teeth, in one spot – and his lower jaw was just gone, showing off the bloody stump where his tongue used to be. The rest of his body hadn't fared much better. They'd ripped half the skin off his chest and belly, and his ribs, still wet with blood, glistened in the candlelight. His skin, where he still had it, was bruised and carved up worse than his face. Every now and again, a few drops of blood would trickle out of one of his wounds, and drip onto one of the dark red puddles slowly drying on the floor.

I wanted to think that the worst of it hadn't happened until after he'd died, from one of the stab wounds in his chest or the slashes in his throat. But the freshness of them, compared to the dried-out look of everything else, told a different story.

A cry that didn't even sound human tore its way out of my throat as I fell to my knees, right in the middle of a blood puddle. It splashed up a little, splattering my thighs with drops of red that matched my armor. I'd gone as fast as I could, done exactly what Lucien had asked me to, but I'd failed him all the same. After getting so many contracts right, I'd made a mess of things the one time it actually mattered. The journal wouldn't mean anything to the others, anymore; they'd found their traitor, and torn him apart. Now that they had their justice, they'd never let me convince them that they were wrong, and they needed to do it all over again. They'd just try and convince me that the journal, and everything I'd found at the lighthouse, were just a lie Lucien had cooked up to blame someone else for all the horrible things he'd done. I'd have to wait for the traitor to kill someone else before I could talk some sense into them. Everything we'd done had been for nothing. I'd failed us both. I'd failed more than just us both.

Everyone had turned to stare at me. I didn't care. When I'd stopped my wailing, or at least stopped noticing it, I got to my feet and, on legs that were still a bit shaky, took the last few steps toward the place they'd hung Lucien from. Still clutching his robes with one hand, I drew my dagger with the other, and set about trying to cut him down. He deserved to be buried right. I never could've lived with myself, if I'd just left him hanging there. I'd cared about him too much to leave his corpse untended. But no matter how much I stretched, I couldn't reach the rope. He was too high off the ground. Just when I'd decided to go looking for a chair to stand on, Arquen stepped out of the shadows and cut him down for me.

"Thanks," I said, my voice a bit scratchy. I didn't know if she'd taken pity on me, or she just wanted me to stop making a fuss.

"It was no trouble," she replied. "We all know what it feels like, losing a Speaker. If you feel that you must bury him… I am willing to assist you."

I just stared at her for a moment, mulling over her offer. I wanted to tell her that she didn't have any right to touch him after she'd helped kill him, and done worse to him after he was dead, if the blood on her teeth was anything to go by. At the same time, I didn't know how I'd manage to get a big enough hole dug in the frozen ground outside, on my own, and Arquen was about the only person in the room I could be certain wasn't the traitor. She was too damn tall, and a woman, which meant that she couldn't have been the person who'd attacked me back at Fort Farragut. She might've killed Lucien, but I could at least know that I'd be safe around her. And I wanted to do right by Lucien more than I wanted to be angry at her. "I could probably use some help. Do you think you could look for a shovel, while I move him outside?"

"Of course." She gave me a pat on the shoulder that I really could've done without, then let me be.

I set Lucien's robes down on a clean patch of floor, then yanked a blanket off the bed and rolled his body onto it. It took a bit longer than I'd have liked it to, but I managed to drag his body out the door and all the way to the base of a nice, big apple tree on my own. Once I'd gotten him there, I wrapped the blanket around him, trying to make up for my not having a real coffin to put him in. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. I figured he would've understood.

Arquen joined me a moment later, carrying a shovel and a hoe, and together we spent the next couple of hours chipping away at the cold, hard dirt until we'd dug a hole deep enough to keep any passing animals from digging him up. Once we'd rolled his body in, and filled the hole back up with dirt, I'd started sweating in spite of the cold as I took a step back to look over what we'd done. It looked like a proper grave, at least, and the apple tree made as good a headstone as any. Maybe, once my head had stopped spinning, I could come back and think of something to carve into its bark, or plant some flowers around it. Poisonous ones.

I could've stood there with my thoughts forever, but the sound of Arquen's teeth chattering brought me back to the reality I didn't want to face.

"Thanks for helping," I said, hoping she'd catch my meaning and leave me in peace. "I don't think I could've done this without you."

"Even traitors deserve to be laid to rest somewhere. Lachance paid the price for his actions in the manner of his death, and will continue to do so in the Void. Burying him will not change that fact." When she looked over at me, and saw me cringe, she added a hasty, "For what it's worth, I am truly sorry that things had to end this way."

I sighed. I knew it was the closest thing to a real apology for killing Lucien I was likely to get, but it didn't make him any less dead, and her calling him a traitor just poured salt in the wound. "So am I."

"I'll take my leave of you, then. You know where I'll be, if you have any questions or concerns."

I waited until I heard the house's door creak shut behind her before I let myself sit down by Lucien's grave, and let the tears prickling behind my eyes fall. Before long, my breathing turned into a mess of hard, hiccupping sobs that would've sounded pathetic coming from a child, let alone a grown man. My whole world had come crashing down around me, and for the first time since I'd left my prison cell, I didn't know what to do. Arquen had said there'd be some sort of ritual to talk to the Night Mother, later on, which would probably flush out the real traitor, and I knew I should've pulled myself together and start preparing for that. It felt like the right thing to do, and I knew it was probably what Lucien would've wanted. Still, a part of me wanted nothing more than to get up and start walking, and not stop until I'd left Cyrodiil, and everything that had happened there, behind me. I could've done it, too; the portal to the Shivering Isles wasn't more than a day or two away, on foot, and even if the traitor killed everyone else, he'd never find me there. Being Sheogorath couldn't have been much lonelier than staying in Cyrodiil, as the Speaker of an empty sanctuary, and New Sheoth seemed like as good a place as any to raise a child.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I couldn't do it. The traitor had taken the last person in Tamriel I truly cared about from me, and if I ran away now, it would've been the same as letting him win. If I hadn't let the traitor half-strangling me in Fort Farragut scare me off, and I hadn't let Ungolim aiming an arrow at my face stop me from trying to clear Lucien's name, there was no way in Oblivion I'd give the traitor the satisfaction of seeing me turn my back on Lucien's memory. How could I spend the rest of my life telling our child that I didn't at least try to avenge their father's death? I owed our child a better story than that, or I'd have no right to call myself a parent. I wouldn't have Lucien there to help me, after all; it was time I learned to stand on my own two feet again. If he'd been willing to destroy an entire sanctuary of innocent people to stop the traitor, I'd happily slaughter a single man I knew was guilty. I just had to figure out which man it was, and send him to the Void. Lucien could handle things well enough from there. Belisarius was too old for Lucien to have killed his mother while he was still a child, so that left Mathieu and Banus. As long as I didn't get caught alone with either of them until the Night Mother spoke to us, I'd be fine.

When my tears had dried and my breathing evened out, I stood up, dusted myself off as best I could, and let myself back into the farmhouse. I spent the rest of the day curled up on the bed, with my face pressed into the bundle of Lucien's robes to filter out the smell of his blood. I tried to sleep, but ended up spending most of the evening in a half-awake haze of trying not to think about how cold and empty the bed felt when I didn't have someone else there with me.

When the last of the sun's light faded, I got back on my feet and put on Lucien's robes over my armor. They were too big for me in just about every way possible, but not so much that they wouldn't stay on, and something about wrapping myself up in the soft, black fabric I'd gotten to know so well, over the past few months, made me feel just a little bit less alone in the world. Resting for a few hours had only made me feel more tired, somehow, and less certain that I wanted to be around for whatever was going to happen when we woke up the Night Mother.

Arquen and Belisarius gathered everyone together in the center of the room, and did some sort of magic that made the world start spinning around us, until everything just looked like a big blur of colors. When the spinning stopped, we were standing outside, by the statue of the Lucky Old Lady in Bravil. I wasn't sure what a statue that had probably started off as a memorial of someone's granny, and turned into a silly landmark that people had taken to kissing for good luck, had to do with the Night Mother, until it started moving. Little by little, the cloaked, smiling woman surrounded by laughing children warped into a twisted, angry wraith looming over a pile of tiny corpses. The change revealed a trapdoor hidden in the statue's base, and, one by one, the five of us climbed down through it and into the darkness below.

I'd hoped to keep myself between Arquen and Belisarius, but I ended up going through the trapdoor last, right after Mathieu and Banus. The sound of everyone else murmuring something about Listeners and the Night Mother, instead of screaming and trying to fight off the traitor, gave me a bit of comfort as I made my way down the old, rope ladder until my feet hit solid ground again. For a moment, everything was pitch dark, and I'd halfway made up my mind to ask if anyone had brought a torch when dozens of candles, scattered all around the chamber, flickered to life. They cast a bright, merry light on several large, stone coffins, and a dais with the skeletons of one adult and five children strewn across it. A blue, glowing shade of what used to be a Dunmer woman stood leaning against the largest coffin, with a her eyes narrowed and a sour frown on her lips.

"So, you have disturbed my slumber for this? I've seen more than my share of incompetence from my children, over the years, but this is the first time a traitor has been allowed to stand in my presence." She crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrows raised as she gave each one of us a long, hard glare.

"But the traitor lies dead, dear Mother. Lachance has-" Arquen's protest ended in a sharp, gurgling gasp as she fell to the ground, with a dagger sticking out of her side.

I turned my head, to try and figure out who'd thrown it, but all I saw was a bright flash of light before I found myself frozen in place. A paralysis spell, probably. I heard a series of stabbing noises, and screaming in two other voices, beside me, then everything went quiet except for the sound of a pair of footsteps coming toward me.

A moment later, Mathieu stepped into my line of sight, his deathly pale face almost glowing under the shadow of his hood. "And now it's your turn, Lachance's little whore. I've saved the best for last; no simple stabbing for something as precious as you," he said, his lips curled into a sneer that sent a shiver down my spine. He undid the clasp at the neck of Lucien's robes, along with the tie around my waist holding them shut, and yanked them off my shoulders. They slid to the floor around me, forming a black pool of cloth at my feet. "Let's see what it is you've gone to such trouble to hide beneath that armor of yours, shall we? I think I already know, but best to make sure before I start cutting."

He cackled as he rested the flat of his blade against my belly, and for a moment, I almost felt glad he'd paralyzed me so I couldn't tense up, or try to cover it with my hands, or beg him to start tearing me apart anywhere but there. Nine agonizing heartbeats - I counted – later, he dragged it upward - hard enough for me to feel it, but not hard enough to cut through anything - and brought it to rest at the patch of skin where my armor stopped covering my chest. With an impossibly wide smile that only showed teeth, and mad delight shining in his eyes, he slipped a finger under the collar of my armor, placed the edge of his blade against it, and started sawing through it, the tip of his blade sticking into my chest, sometimes hard enough to draw blood, while he worked, whistling a tuneless song all the while.

Tears formed in my eyes, and it was all I could do to blink them back, so I at least didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he'd frightened me. Inside, I screamed at my arms, either of them, to move, just a little bit, so I could grab the dagger sheathed at my waist and give myself a fighting chance at living, at completing the last task Lucien had given me. If I could just bring Mathieu with me, I could face him in the Void with pride, even if I couldn't manage to keep myself in the land of the living.

My belt, and dagger, fell to the floor along with my armor, any my smallclothes joined them with a slice of Mathieu's dagger that left a long, but shallow cut along my left hip. I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn't have to look at him as a nasal, giggling laugh rolled out of his mouth in a wave of rancid breath. He was the same person who'd attacked me in Fort Farragut, all right.

"Well, isn't this interesting. I've never seen a boy like you before, but the Dark Brotherhood takes all kinds, I suppose." He placed a cold, clammy hand on my belly, and I couldn't keep my eyes from flying open in surprise, and staying that way while he started rubbing it in slow, gentle circles that made me want to puke. "This has been coming along nicely, since the last time we met. It's a shame we'll have to end things prematurely, but I'd hate to send you to the Void with that sort of unfinished business hanging over your head. Why not think of it as a mercy, eh? This way, you'll get to see Lachance's half-baked little bastard before you die. I'll make sure to keep you conscious, so you can get a good look at it."

Even paralyzed, I could feel my body shaking with rage. Killing Mythic Dawn members and daedra had always given me a sense of satisfaction and justice. Carrying out contracts had a thrill to it that only felt stronger because of how wrong it was. The thought of killing Mathieu just felt… cold, like sticking my sore feet into a stream after a long day's walk. Relaxing, but in a way that only made me feel more awake and alert. The paralysis spell couldn't last forever; if he'd just keep talking, maybe I still had a chance.

With one last pat on my belly, and a pinch on my cheek hard enough to draw blood, Mathieu took a small step back, twirling a dagger between his fingers. "Now, where's the best place to open you up?"

As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the Night Mother appeared behind him. She locked her eyes onto mine, a small smirk on her face. Her lips didn't move, but I heard her voice whisper, 'now,' somewhere in the back of my mind as a wave of… something washed over me, and put me in control of my body, again.

Before Mathieu could finish his thought, I curled my fingers into a fist and punched him right in his disgusting little mouth. He staggered back, dropping his dagger as he brought his hands up to cover his split lip and the bloody hole where one of his front teeth used to be. My sword hand felt like someone had set it on fire, and I could feel a bit of blood running down one of my knuckles where I's scraped it on his teeth, so I used my other hand to pick up the dagger he'd dropped before taking a step after him. My grip on it felt a bit awkward, but that didn't stop me from stabbing it into his chest, right where his black, shriveled excuse for a heart was. I kept on top of him as he fell to the floor, my blood roaring too loud in my ears for me to hear any noises he made as I kept stabbing him, over and over, until his face and chest looked like mangled lumps of meat. It was a gentle death, compared to what he'd done to Lucien, but he was dead, and I'd made him hurt, and that was all that really mattered.

When I stood back up, it felt like I'd woken from a dream. The pain in my hand, the itchy feeling of a mix of my and Mathieu's blood drying on my skin, and the cold chill of the air around me all came rushing back at the same time, and my fingers went limp as Mathieu's dagger clattered to the floor beside me. I didn't feel happy that the traitor was dead, or sad that I hadn't been able to stop him from framing Lucien, and killing almost anyone else; that would happen later. Right then, after everything that had happened, I just felt tired.

And exposed, when I caught sight of the Night Mother and Arquen, slumped against a wall while she held a hand glowing with a healing spell against her side, watching me from across the room, like they were expecting something from me. I didn't have the first idea what to say, so I didn't say anything, and focused on getting myself back into Lucien's robes, instead. Mathieu hadn't sliced through their fastenings like he had my armor, at least, so I wouldn't have to worry about them coming undone or slipping off or leaving anything uncovered unless I ran into a strong wind.

As I fastened the final clasp, the Night Mother drifted toward me, over Banus and Belisarius' corpses, until she was close enough that I almost could've reached out and touched her, if she were flesh and blood instead of ectoplasm. "So, at last we meet. I have been following the steps of your strange journey through the ranks of our Family, my child. I am pleased… and intrigued by the potential that lies within you," she said.

I kept quiet. I wasn't quite sure what she was getting at, or whether she was mocking me or genuinely offering me a compliment, and I didn't want to risk making her angry by saying the wrong thing. I'd gotten to where I was through sheer dumb luck, mostly; I knew I wouldn't have been impressed with me, if I were her.

"So, you choose to play the stoic? Or are you just pouting?" She shrugged. "It matters not; your position in our Family remains the same, either way. Your obedience and loyalty are to be commended, and rewarded. For I have known of Mathieu Bellamont's thirst for vengeance since he was a mere child. I could have informed my listener, of course, but I refused to reward such incompetence. Such weakness. And so, I allowed Mathieu Bellamont to continue on his destructive course. Just as I allowed you to intercept him."

"But… but why? They were all so loyal to you. Especially Lucien; he-"

"Was an unfortunate, but necessary bit of collateral damage. As were they all, as part of our Dread Father's grand plan. He foresaw your defeat of the traitor, here in this very crypt, and understood its meaning. You are to be my new Listener, and were marked as such by Sithis the moment you emerged from your mother's womb. It is an honor without equal."

"So, what happens now?" I didn't know what to make of her choosing me as her Listener, but I guess she didn't really have many choices left. It explained my hearing her voice in my head, at least. Part of me didn't want the job, if she'd let Lucien die so that I could take it, but I couldn't dishonor his memory by abandoning the Family he'd sacrificed himself to protect. Maybe I hadn't been a good enough Silencer to save him, but I could still be a good enough Listener to make sure that no more innocent lives got thrown away while a traitor went free.

"You gather your things, and prepare to return to the only place you can truly call home – the Cheydinhal sanctuary. There is much work to be done, and precious little time in which to do it. Arquen will provide you with the details, when you return to the sanctuary, and act as your servant and guide for as long as you have need of her."

"Yes, Night Mother."

She laughed, and ran a gentle hand over my face. "So obedient, even in your new role. I can see why Lachance found you so appealing, child."

I got to work picking up the pieces of my armor, shivering a little from her touch. It was a nice gesture, but her fingers had felt like ice, and it hadn't done anything to warm the cold spot Lucien's death had left inside me. My armor and weapons felt heavier in my arms than they had when I'd worn them, and I didn't know how long I'd be able to hold the loose bundle I'd gathered them into together. Maybe I'd rent myself a room in Bravil, instead of going to Cheydinhal straight away. I didn't know if I was up for that much of a walk, and Arquen looked like she could barely stand.

The Night Mother chuckled. "You don't think I expect you to walk home, do you? You have served me well this day, my child, and I do not wish to open my home once again, and risk compromising its secrecy. If you are ready to leave this place, I will gladly transport you to your former Sanctuary."

"Thank you?" Much as I appreciated the offer, I didn't know how she'd known to say anything. Either she'd read my mind, or I'd been talking to myself, and I wasn't sure which explanation I liked better. "I think I'm ready, now."

"Very good! Now begins your true journey. We will soon become very intimate, you and I. I'm looking forward to it." She smiled, looking me over in a way that made me wonder if I hadn't missed a fastening or two when I put my robes back on. "Before I sent you away, however, I would like to present you with a rather special reward. I see you still possess the Blade of Woe, given to you by Lucien Lachance when you first met. Allow me now to unlock its true power!"

"All right." It took some doing, but I managed to get the dagger out of its sheath and hand it to the Night Mother without dropping the rest of my things. "Thanks for doing this for me, but it's really not necessary." I didn't feel like I deserved half the fuss she'd decided to make over me, and I didn't like how it had started to feel more like charity than a real reward. Her making me Listener would've felt like it made things even, between us. Offering to magick me to other places and improving me gear made it feel like I owed her something, and I didn't know if I'd like what her price was, when she decided to call in that debt. But, I couldn't exactly say 'no' to her in her own tomb, and I liked the thought of getting the Blade of Woe improved a lot more than the thought of having to replace it with something better, one day.

After holding it against her chest for a moment, she gave the dagger back to me, with a faint glow it hadn't had before. Other than that, it looked the same as it always had, with an added bit of comfort and rightness to the way it felt in my hand. Whether that was a part of the Night Mother's blessing, or just because it was a way of holding on to Lucien, I couldn't have said.

"Whether it was necessary or not, you will now find the Blade of Woe a bit more… potent than it once was. Use it well." The Night Mother's ghost started to fade, along with the candles around us. "Though I am afraid it cannot compare to the other gift Lachance has left you with. I'd take good care of it, if I were you. But the time has come for you to go, now. Leave this crypt, and serve our Dread Father 'til your dying breath!"

The next thing I knew, I was standing in the Cheydinhal sanctuary's main room, with Arquen at my side. I could tell from the confused, troubled look on her face that she had questions about my talk with the Night Mother, and Mathieu's mad ramblings, but she didn't ask them. That alone was enough to make me almost want to like her, even after the role she'd played in Lucien's death. I'd explain things to her later, after I'd had a chance to rest and make sense of everything, myself.

"What's our next step, Listener?" she asked, bowing her head in a way I didn't think I'd ever get used to.

I shrugged. "You tell me. I was just a Silencer, until yesterday."

"Well, there is the matter of appointing three new Speakers, and acquiring new recruits for Cheydinhal."

"That sounds good. But not until later," I replied, stifling a yawn. Rebuilding the Black Hand, and Cheydinhal, could wait until I'd some proper sleep, and found myself some food, and washed off all the everything that had stuck to me since Lucien and I had left the Imperial City. Not necessarily in that order. Unsettling as she was, the Night Mother was right. I had more than just myself to worry about, and no one but myself there to remind me of that. Just a few more months, and I'd have another chance at protecting someone I loved. And this time, I wouldn't fail them.


End file.
